Ranch Hand
by seaecho
Summary: A Larry Stylinson AU story. Harry finds adventure when he becomes a ranch hand under ranch owner Louis Tomlinson. This is a slow burn story, and I do mean SLOW burn! No insta-sex. Things do eventually really heat up, and Louis finds he can no longer deny his attraction to Harry. Adult situations, gay sex, some language.
1. Chapter 1

"I can't stand it anymore!"

It seized Harry in a stubborn, vicious grip, squeezing his heart, flooding his senses, refusing to let go.

 _Restless yearning._

That was the name he'd given it, for lack of a better term. It seemed fitting. And unfortunately, it was happening again. Harry took a deep, fortifying breath, trying to abort it. Not to be denied, it clung tenaciously.

Shuddering internally, Harry steeled himself for the onslaught that became more formidable by the second. Actually, restless yearning was a fairly accurate description, considering he was mostly a down to earth kind of guy, and he'd never experienced anything remotely like it before.

Lurking just out of his reach, it taunted him, beckoned, flirted with his more base instincts. His hidden, wilder side, he supposed. But Harry could hardly be referred to as "wild," so everything about this was foreign and bewildering to him.

Restless yearning or wild desperation? Which was it? Or was it both?

Harry stood at his kitchen window, staring out wistfully. What was calling to him? All he could do, for the moment, was to surrender to this not-so-vague longing that tore at his precarious grip on himself, on his reality.

All that met his eyes was concrete and apartment buildings. It was crushing him. He fidgeted, shifted his weight from one leg to the other. He couldn't keep still. Something nameless was building up, with nowhere to go. He felt a smothering closeness, as if a heavy blanket had been thrown over his head.

Then, without warning, he spun around, giving vent to a sudden, uncharacteristic outburst.

"Audrey! I feel like I'm goin' mad!"

He pinned a haunted expression on his friend who gasped aloud at his eruption.

"I'm claustrophobic. Life is too predictable. I feel like just runnin' away! What's wrong with me?"

Alarmed, Audrey stared at her closest friend in the world, totally confounded, and feeling helpless to accommodate or console him.

She looked momentarily perplexed, then suddenly threw her head back and laughed like a maniac until she cried-literally.

Harry glared at her with contempt. How dare she laugh at him! He hadn't meant it to be amusing. Obviously Audrey had no clue as to how serious this feeling of his was becoming. Here he was, all ready to pour his heart out to her, and she had just made him feel like five times a fool.

This was very unlike Audrey, his confidant, the only one he had ever been able to tell everything to-his dreams, hopes and fantasies, without fear of judgment or ridicule. But for some reason, this particular grievance of his had caused her to lapse into hysterics.

"Audrey! I wasn't jokin' 'round, for Heaven's sake! I was serious!"

Audrey immediately squelched the laughter and etched what she hoped was a properly contrite expression on her face as she wiped away the tears of laughter that had been streaming down her face. It was just so . . . unlike Harry.

"Harry, I'm sorry. You caught me off guard. But you've got to be kidding, big-time."

Audrey peered into his startlingly beautiful forest green eyes that were darkened with fretfulness, trying to read his innermost thoughts, something she was better at than anyone else on earth, she silently assured herself. Except for maybe his mother.

"Well, I wasn't. I've always dreamed of livin' somewhere out in the wide open spaces, ridin' horses, livin' the way people lived a hundred years ago; the simple life. I hate this concrete jungle! Sometimes, like right now, I feel like I can't stand it for another minute!"

"That _sounds_ great, but if you're really serious, how would you get away with that? There's something more that's brewing in the back of that gorgeous curly head of yours. You can't fool your best friend, Haz.''

She went on, realization dawning on her slowly. "Wide open spaces, riding horses. There's a reason for this madness of yours-a big element-cowboys."

Audrey grinned knowingly. "Don't they happen to go conveniently with wide open spaces and riding horses?" She cocked an eyebrow impishly.

Not for one second could Harry argue with her simple logic, or deny how he felt about cowboys. Not to Audrey. She knew him like a book, and he had never attempted to hide his undying, obsessive passion for cowboys from her.

Not the guys that simply dressed like cowboys, mind you, but _real_ cowboys. The kind with calloused hands roughened by hard ranch work, well scuffed boots that were used for everyday riding, not sitting in closets for special occasions, Stetson hats, Wrangler jeans. The real deal.

For as long as he could remember, Harry had been fascinated by cowboys. But when he'd become a teenager, they had begun to really make his heart flip-flop all over the place, made him breathless with their rugged, independent masculinity.

Brave, strong. For Harry, there was simply nothing else like a cowboy. Lawyers and doctors had nothing on them.

And incidentally, for as long as he could remember, Harry had known he was gay. He'd tried dating girls and flirting, but the feelings just weren't there. He'd tried really hard to be like the other lads where he had grown up in England, but from deep within, he'd known he was different from the start. And so, ashamed, he'd kept it hidden.

No one knew he was gay. No one but Audrey. Some people might have their suspicions; he didn't know about that, but he'd told no one on earth but his best friend. Not even his mother.

He'd played along at school, imitating what the other lads had done, acting as if he was interested when girls were discussed, but after several attempts, he'd given up on dating. When his friends asked him about never seeing him out with anyone, he'd blamed it on too much homework and errands at home. If anything, they might have suspected he was asexual, but that was better than being made fun of for being homosexual. He knew how gay guys were ostracized, and he was a typical teen who needed to feel accepted by his peers. Life was hard enough as it was.

"Okay, okay. So that's part of the whole picture," he now admitted to Audrey. He was comfortable talking to her about it.

"Yeah, like, cowboys turn me on, but so does fresh air, the country, and everythin' that goes with it."

Audrey contemplated this for a moment.

"Well, we all have our dreams. Too bad it isn't possible to always be able to pursue them," Audrey looked pensive as she pondered the idea.

"I believe it is possible to pursue our dreams," Harry insisted. "All we have to do is act on it."

"What? Just up and move to Wyoming, Texas, Montana, or some other cowboy country?"

"Why not? Isn't it true that if you don't go for your dreams when you're young, that when you're old you'll be sorry, and never forgive yourself? Isn't that what people in nursin' homes talk about? And the old men who sit on their porch swings and brood about what they should have done when they were young, strong and adventurous? And grieve because they'll never get another chance?"

"Yeah, but you've got to be practical too. I mean, you'd have to think about how you'd support yourself, for one thing. And that's just one factor. There are dozens of others. You know that-you're an intelligent guy. You can't be rash."

Harry was becoming frustrated in trying to explain, and Audrey was beginning to experience a vague but definite prickle of unease as she studied the strangely untamed, reckless look in Harry's eyes.

"But," argued Harry, "If you never take a chance, never risk anythin,' how would you ever know what you might have had? Like I said, isn't that the main regret most old people have? That they never lived for the moment? That they never just went for it? I don't want that to happen to me."

Audrey was becoming more uncomfortable by the second. She had never seen Harry so passionate about anything. Except maybe singing. He didn't do it professionally, but he was fantastic at karaoke.

His eyes carried an odd gleam; he was much more animated than he'd been in months. True, she had known he was jaded with his job as a veterinary technician, and had been becoming more and more irritable as of late. But Audrey had just assumed he'd been tired, bored, perhaps just a little depressed with the same day to day routine. Something nearly everyone went through from time to time.

But not for a moment had she considered he was truly displeased with his life. This restlessness that was suddenly so evident was startling, especially coming from her nearest and dearest friend.

"Boy, I thought I knew you pretty well, Harry, but I guess I never realized how bummed you really are with your life."

"Audrey, you just hit the nail on the head. It's not just one or two things, but me life in general. I've been thinkin' about it a lot lately. I'm only twenty-three years old. I have me whole life ahead of me.

"I live in this nice little San Diego community, in a nice little apartment, have a job, and good health. It seems as if I'm all set up, and I'm sure lots of people would think I'm being ungrateful. I'm not ungrateful, but . . . there's something missin.' Hell, there's a lot missin.'"

"Like what?"

"Audrey, either you're not listenin' to me, or I'm not makin' meself very clear," Harry fought down the exasperation of not getting through to her.

"I guess I'm just not a city boy at heart. Takin' me ridin' lessons is great, and I'm grateful I can do that, but I want to be able to ride a horse out in the country, not an arena. Far away from the city, traffic, distractions. Do sommat useful with me hands. Not have to worry about restrictions, feel the wind in me hair, clearin' me mind. Smell fresh air instead of smog. Wake up to the sound of roosters crowin' instead of semi trucks."

"That all sounds romantic, but where's the pragmatic Harry I know? Responsible, dependable, reliable. How could you just up and take off to this fantasy land and leave all your responsibilities and worries behind? It's just not possible."

"Number one, it's not a fantasy land. Places like I describe do still exist. Texas for instance, has a lot of wide open spaces. It's massive. I read its two hundred sixty-seven thousand square miles. I'm sure you've heard how many huge ranches are out there. Real workin' ranches.

"Number two, I wouldn't be leavin' behind me responsibilities. I would simply settle everythin,' tie up loose ends before leavin.' Do it the right way. Then I'd start a whole new life for meself."

"You talk as if you're actually considering it!" Audrey was flabbergasted. Harry was probably the most unlikely person she knew to do something so imprudent. He was the type that would flip out if one of his bills was paid late; he always had ridiculous amounts of food in his apartment just "in case" of a major earthquake or some other disaster; he was never, ever late to work; he kept a savings account of several thousand dollars that had taken years for him to save, and never touched it unless there was an urgent, absolutely necessary expense such as a car repair or emergency room visit. Nothing else qualified to withdraw a penny. And he staunchly stuck by it. Audrey had never known him to borrow money from anyone.

"I wish I had the courage to really do it, to tell you the truth. If I did, I'd give me two weeks' notice today, and be gone just as soon as I possibly could," Harry declared.

"But where would you go? Do you even know?" Audrey was incredulous. This was _so_ not Harry. What had possessed him? But Audrey was able to appease herself with the thought that talking about doing something and actually doing it were two very different things.

Everyone had fantasies. This was just one of his more intense ones, she supposed. But then, Harry was an especially intense person. He didn't show that side of himself to many people. She, Audrey, was one of the honored few.

"But that's just it-the adventure. I'd just take off and go wherever the mood took me. That's the whole point-just get in the car and start drivin' until I find some place I might like to stay. I've always dreamed of doing sommat like that."

Harry's eyes twinkled eerily. She had to admit it spooked her.

"Harry, I'm glad I know you as well as I do. If I didn't, I'd almost be convinced you were really considering doing it."

Harry bristled. Well, as much as he was capable of bristling, the gentle soul that he was.

"What if I really am?"

""You just wouldn't."

Audrey was a year younger than Harry, twenty-two. She was going to school to become a nurse. She was ambitious. She was rational, sweet and kind. They were very much alike, and Harry cherished their friendship. He sympathized with her in a way—he'd be just as stunned if she had come out and declared the same thing he had.

Audrey had been attracted to Harry almost from the moment she'd met him in an English class in their senior year of high school. He'd come over from England that same year, having talked his mother into letting him come to the U.S., something he'd always wanted to do. He was nearing eighteen anyway, so she had relented after much discussion, some of it heated. In the end she'd had to admit to herself that her little boy was no longer a child. He'd be a man in a few months, and would do as he pleased anyway.

He had lived with an aunt in Chula Vista until he'd come of age, less than a year later, graduated high school, then he'd gone to school to become a veterinary technician for two years, meanwhile getting a part time job in a bakery, and his own place in nearby San Diego, flying back to visit his mother regularly. His mother had helped him out since he was struggling with both school and a job.

Once he had become a certified vet tech, he'd gotten a job that had opened up in a vet hospital, and officially had begun life on his own, no longer needing his mother's financial help. It was a proud moment for him.

Audrey was a regular client at the hospital, and the two had maintained their friendship during Harry's schooling, mostly over the phone as Harry had had very little time for socializing. By this time they'd been friends for five years.

Audrey remembered with fondness when she'd brought her dog to the hospital where Harry worked for the first time. Her dog had been limping, and Harry had taken him to the back when the vet had suggested x-rays. He'd made her feel woozy the moment she'd laid eyes on him. He'd matured, and was even more attractive than he'd been in high school.

He'd had medium-short hair then, much shorter than it was now. His curls had enchanted her, but moreso his clear green eyes and dimples, and even more than that, his disposition. She was convinced that not one other person in the world was anything like Harry. He had filled out and was no longer scrawny, but was still a little bashful. He was the definition of compassion and good manners to top it all off. He'd been very kind to her dog and he'd always made her feel she could trust him. So unlike all the other boys. And his charming British Cheshire accent had been the absolute icing on the cake.

Even though he was still shy now, he'd been painfully so in high school, but with maturity had come the ability to realize his lot in life, and face it, and he'd unveiled the fact that he was gay to Audrey a year after they'd met. Of course, Audrey had wondered why he didn't date, and in fact, showed none of the lust for girls that she had come to expect from boys. He'd never come on to her either, much to her dismay, but she'd figured that for one reason or another, he just wasn't attracted to her.

So learning he was gay answered a lot of her questions. He was sensitive and emotional, and though he didn't act feminine, he had the mindset of a gay guy, now that she thought about it. A little flamboyancy peeked out every great once in a while, if he'd had a little too much to drink-but only if they were alone-never in front of others. He had a certain delicacy and innocence about him too that was missing in the other guys she knew.

His hair had gotten longer-it was now below his shoulders, and if it were possible, he'd gotten even more handsome. He was actually handsome and irresistibly cute in one package. So much so that he got a lot of stares that he seemed oblivious to.

At this point Audrey had had to resign herself to the fact that she would never win his heart. She was female, and he just wasn't into the fairer sex. She felt sorry for him, as Harry did not try to find a boyfriend. He was just too shy, and probably also afraid of rejection, and her heart ached for him. As far as she knew, he was a virgin, even at the age of twenty-three.

But if she couldn't have him as a boyfriend, having him as her dearest and best friend was the next best thing, she supposed. Now she valued his priceless friendship more than anything in life. So this jarring confession on Harry's part about running away just about scared the hell out of her. She just couldn't fathom not having Harry around. He was a staple in her life.

Now that Harry looked the best he ever had, Audrey had found him increasingly hard to resist. So many times she'd had to force herself not to touch him in a romantic way.

"Harry, you're forgetting your best friend," she whined.

Öh no, I'm not! Audrey, you should come with me!" He meant it too. Harry never said anything he didn't mean.

Actually, Harry had only been playing with words, indulging himself in his little mind game for kicks, and he hadn't realized how alarmed Audrey was becoming until he saw the barely concealed apprehension in her eyes.

Someone else probably wouldn't have noticed, but Harry and Audrey communicated almost without the need for words. Their affinity was remarkable.

"You know I can't do that Harry. I'm in school to become a nurse, and I'd never walk away from that. Otherwise, I'd probably follow you to the ends of the earth."

Harry smiled, his dimples playing hide and seek. "Ï know. And I'm not serious. I was just lettin' wishful thinkin' carry me away. Of course I could never just take off and leave me job, me apartment, and most of all, you! It's just a pipe dream."

Audrey knew his comforting words should have eased her mind, but for some reason, she remained on edge. You could almost smell it-it hung heavy in the air- Harry's restlessness was tangible.


	2. Chapter 2

"Collect her up, Harry," Doris, Harry's riding instructor watched on with approval as Harry put Robin through her paces.

Ever since he'd first sat atop a pony and trotted around the "pony ring" when very young, he couldn't get enough of horses. He had been seat-belted in the saddle, and didn't even get to hold the reins. For the ponies' protection from unskilled riders, the reins had been tied to the saddle, out of reach. So it hadn't been "real" riding in any sense of the word. But he'd begged his parents to take him there every weekend, his love for horses already blooming.

When he'd gotten a little older he'd worked in a stable in England as a young teen, mucking out stalls, just to be around horses. Something about them gave him a sense of serenity.

After he'd come to the states and gotten the job at the vet hospital, Harry had begun taking riding lessons. Every Saturday morning, he was in the saddle. He hadn't ever had any proper lessons, and found there was a whole lot more to it than met the eye of the casual observer. It was work, but he enjoyed the challenge.

He was learning to ride English-it made perfect sense, as most people in England rode with an English saddle and bridle. Frankly, Western style riding had never even occurred to him, even though the majority of Californians rode Western. He no doubt would have been stared at out on the trail, but he never left the arena, so it didn't matter.

There were so many things to think of at once. Keep your heels down, keep the horse moving forward with energy, keep your back straight, hands correctly holding the reins, and butt firmly in the saddle, no matter what.

Harry loved his lessons dearly, and even though it was sometimes a struggle to put aside the fifteen dollars a week, it was well worth it to him. After all, it was his only hobby, so he convinced himself he was justified in spending the money. He didn't make a whole lot as a vet tech, but he realized the importance, and the need for _something_ that was just for himself.

The horse he rode today was a twelve year old strawberry roan mare, Harry's favorite in the barn. A large horse, she stood over sixteen hands high and must have weighed close to twelve hundred pounds. She was said to be half Arabian; no one knew what the other half was. But she was such a sweet, wonderful mount that Harry had decided long ago that if his dream of having his own horse someday ever came true, it would be an Arabian, or at least part Arabian. He loved their elegant looks, their willingness to please, their lively spirit and intelligence.

Robin wasn't for sale, but it wouldn't have mattered if she had been, since Harry had no place to keep her. Boarding would be out of the question, with Harry making not much over minimum wage. So riding lessons it was; it made him happy and it was his only real indulgence in life.

Harry was ambivalent about his job, sometimes loving it and sometimes coming close to despising it. The older veterinarian he worked for, Dr. Jenkins, couldn't afford to pay his employees much, but he was a very likeable man, and working for him, Harry often felt as if the office was one big family. It was a good feeling, as he missed his family in the U.K. There was a high turnover of course, because of the low wages, but Dr. Jenkins always seemed to hire the nicest people-the ones who inevitably quit for better paying jobs almost always came back to visit often.

Dr. Jenkins, however, was getting on a bit in age, had been a vet for many years, and was becoming more and more jaded as time went on. Actually, he was only in his mid-fifties, but looked at least ten years older. Being a vet was not an easy job. He was not always as conscientious he should have been, and some potentially serious mistakes had been made.

As Harry took Robin over a few jumps, he reflected on his years with Dr. Jenkins. Among other quirky traits, the man had a habit of avoiding particularly pesky clients and requiring his employees to talk to them when they called about their hospitalized pets. Often, the employees had to attempt to explain to the owners about their animals' serious health problems, not having the knowledge to answer the worried owners' questions properly. The employees ended up winging it at those times. Harry dreaded this.

Just as disturbing, Dr. Jenkins just did not care as much as when he was a younger man. He was just plain tired. He had a wife at home whom the employees all loved, but who had a habit of spending every dime the doctor made, no matter how much he brought home.

So, even though he had a huge clientele, and should have been able to retire comfortably, he was constantly pressured to push himself to make more, and the more he worked, the longer the hours, the more the money seemed to dissolve almost before he made it. He took on much more work than he should have, rarely turning anyone away. He had many loyal clients that had been with him for many years, wouldn't dream of going elsewhere, and had come to expect the prompt service the doctor had always provided. But his clientele continued to grow through word of mouth, without advertising even needed, and so the doctor became ever more overworked and weary.

Therefore, with financial problems, and fatigue from overwork, Dr. Jenkins' mind was not always on the job. His distraction caused him to make errors, and his patients, the animals, were in danger of paying the price. Harry, being an avid animal lover, had a hard time dealing with this. That, and the fact that the doctor offered no medical insurance of any kind for his employees had had Harry thinking about looking elsewhere for employment for some time now.

Sure, he was young and healthy, but medical emergencies could happen to anyone. Harry supposed he was just being stupid and overly loyal by staying as long as he had—It was his nature to be loyal, but this was, after all, his first job, and not only would he hate to leave Dr. Jenkins and the staff, but the thought of going somewhere else was also intimidating.

Could he even manage another job? He'd been too sheltered-that much he knew. Bless his mother—she had done her best, but nevertheless had not prepared him properly. She had babied him, and with his face, it hadn't been difficult, and although she had tried to warn him, it was to no avail. He hadn't been ready to come to the U.S. and face the harsh reality of the work world and living on his own. He'd accomplished it though, and was proud of it.

Learning to be a vet tech had been easy for him because of his interest. He could draw blood, give vaccines, take x-rays, do dental work on dogs and cats, and even assist in surgery. On top of that, he also did receptionist work answering phones, making appointments. In short, he could hold his own anywhere he was needed in the hospital. He had gotten a great deal of experience.

But could he learn another job as easily? Something that perhaps wouldn't come as naturally to him? He'd gone to school to become something that he apparently hadn't researched well enough beforehand, because, of course, he'd found out soon enough that a vet tech job in general didn't pay much.

He did know he was sick and tired of barely making it from one paycheck to the next, and sometimes having to do without so he could put some money aside for emergencies or a rainy day. This was an absolute necessity, considering his lack of medical insurance.

His car, an older Range Rover, was far from reliable, and so that too, was a constant source of anxiety. That nagging doubt in the back of his mind that it might not start, or get him to work and back. Harry was so intimately familiar with the vehicle's idiosyncrasies that he could almost talk it out of its occasional temperamental refusals to cooperate. He knew just when to feather the gas pedal, ease up or gun the engine to make it behave. But the fact was, it was just plain getting old and worn out, and he was aware it wouldn't last forever.

Harry was amazed, as always, when his one hour riding lesson came to an end. It seemed to go by faster every week. Time really does fly when you're doing something you truly enjoy. Dismounting Robin, he caressed the loveable horse's neck, and the mare turned her head to nuzzle his cheek.

The fierce longing returned just then- _here we go again,_ Harry thought. The longing to have his own horse, live somewhere else far away. He must remember to mention to Audrey how this insistent notion just would not leave him. After five days, he still had the feeling she wasn't taking him seriously.

Hoping it would burn itself out, Harry had neglected to mention to Audrey just how tenacious this strange urge really was; how it clung to him. Maybe he'd find a solution as to how to eradicate it from his mind. Good Lord, he even dreamed about it at night! It had been going on for weeks, maybe as long as a few months. He couldn't be sure of exactly when it had started. These totally unacceptable, irresponsible thoughts must be banished, or he'd surely lose his mind.

"Harry, you're coming along so well," Doris, the riding instructor interrupted his pensive thoughts. "I like the way you go with the horse. And you have good hands. You have such natural ability."

Harry couldn't help but glow from her compliments. But, considering his line of thinking today, he couldn't see himself making a career with horses, because he didn't have enough talent or experience to do something like showing, breeding or training.

"Thanks, Doris. That makes me feel good. I wish I could ride every day. Someday, maybe I'll be able to."

Doris wasn't certain just what Harry meant by that statement, but she did know he was a delight to have as a student. So willing to learn, so patient and compassionate with the horse, following instructions to the letter. She wished all her students were like him. Holy moly, but he was a joy to look at too. If only she were about twenty years younger. . .

"Maybe soon I'll put you on a horse with more spirit," she said. "It'll improve your riding skills, plus it'll be a challenge. The true measure of a good rider is the ability to handle all kinds of horses with all kinds of dispositions and levels of training. When you ride a green horse, and know what to do, and what not to do, and encourage the best out of the animal, you'll have confidence on almost any horse."

"That does make sense," said Harry. But at the same time, he wondered silently if he'd be around long enough to ride a more challenging horse. The unbidden thought alarmed him. Why had he allowed that ridiculous whim to enter his head again? Now he was becoming truly concerned. He'd definitely have to talk to Audrey tonight.

But Harry's conversation with his best friend did absolutely nothing to ease his mind. They had almost the same identical conversation as last time. This time it was via telephone, and Harry couldn't help but feel slightly guilty about Audrey's response. She simply didn't understand why he'd want to leave. And she had good reason, Harry mused. He didn't completely understand it himself. There was a certain degree of tension between them that hadn't been there before.

These wanderlust feelings of Harry's had been slowly increasing in intensity until he now feared they were beginning to dominate his thoughts. Audrey was supportive, yet she was clearly frustrated with Harry's rather sudden lack of good sense.

Harry double checked the chart for Mrs. Settlemyre's ancient dog, Susie. He squinted at the doctor's handwriting again and again, unable to believe what he was seeing. The doc's orders clearly stated he wanted a prescription filled for Aminophylline. This made no sense to Harry, who knew Aminophylline was a drug used for breathing problems. Susie had arthritis, not breathing problems.

Harry finally tracked Dr. Jenkins down after scouring the five thousand square foot building, while phones rang incessantly, owners and pets waited in exam rooms, and people continued to flow through the front door. This was routine for the animal hospital. The office was almost always this busy, except for a couple of months in the winter.

Finding Dr. Jenkins and approaching him in the x-ray room, Harry presented the chart.

"Doc, are you sure you wanted to prescribe Aminophylline for Susie Settlemyre?"

Dr. Jenkins, slightly flustered from his constant attempt to catch up—something that never happened, peered at the chart in question thoughtfully, then snorted his disgust with himself at his blatant mistake.

"What would I do without you, Harry? You're right—I meant to write Dexamethazone." He quickly amended the orders with the pen that seemed to be a permanent fixture in his right hand. "Good boy to keep on top of things." He patted Harry on the back. "I'm so damn busy I can't hear myself think sometimes."

Harry smiled. "No problem, Doc." Harry knew Doc was doing the best he could under the circumstances. Good thing, though, that he had a staff that was vigilant about checking up on his orders. Hell, the two drugs didn't even begin with the same letter!

But Harry suspected Dr. Jenkins had been hurriedly working with more than one chart at a time, and had simply written another animal's orders onto the wrong chart. A fairly common mistake for him lately, but potentially lethal, depending on the particular drug, and a pet's condition. Harry feared it was only a matter of time before a technician did not catch a mistake, and an animal needlessly ended up suffering, or worse.

Harry tried not to dwell on this distressing thought as he filled the prescription. Susie was all old Mrs. Settlemyre had, being a widow and living alone. Even though the dog was probably not going to live much longer than a few more years, an untimely death, or added health problems would not do the elderly lady any favors. Her dog, like many of Dr. Jenkins' other clients, was like a child to her.

The remainder of the day flew by, as they all did. Harry rarely stopped running longer than a few minutes, and then it was just long enough to stuff a sandwich down his throat. Even so, he'd take a bite or two and then have to answer the phone, or would be called to the back to assist with something.

Many days, like today, there was no time for lunch. He was either answering phones, asking Doc questions for clients, calling back test results to owners, autoclaving, peering into the microscope, developing x-rays, updating charts, or sending out vaccine reminders, non-stop.

All the employees worked well with each other, like a well-oiled machine, taking up each other's slack when needed, all keeping the successful practice running smoothly. Nevertheless, the fact that Doc would not turn anyone away, even if booked solid, meant he always had more than he could handle. This often resulted in overtime for the already nearly burned out employees.

Harry couldn't remember the last time he'd started the day without a pile of charts to update and endless calls to make. By the end of the day, there would always be a fresh pile. It was frustrating to never be able to completely catch up.

Back in his apartment, Harry flopped down on the couch, almost too tired to make dinner. The doorbell chimed, and he wearily trudged to open it to find his only other close friend, Tish. Though Harry had many acquaintances and casual friends at work, Audrey and Tish were special. Harry didn't allow many people into his personal life, but these two were of the rare sort that could be trusted completely not to cause him grief or betray him. Not having a lot of free time, Harry was careful about who he spent it with. Harry was aware that Tish knew he was gay, but they had never mentioned it, so he supposed she accepted it, and that it was a kind of silent understanding between them that she would never discuss it with anyone else.

Tish was a very timid, retiring type of girl, easily intimidated, but she had been an unequaled friend to Harry. They had also met in high school, like himself and Audrey. Both Tish and Harry were bashful and shy, and although Harry was becoming a little more confident with age, Tish remained the same.

Admittedly though, Harry still had a long way to go, and no one would ever venture so far as to label him as assertive. Quite far from it, actually. So, the three friends offered each other comfort, as well as often boosting each other's esteem in their effort to face life's difficult situations.

Tish was slightly built, even more so than Audrey, and she had a quiet, understated, special kind of beauty with her long, dark curtain of hair and big dark brown eyes. Audrey's hair, on the other hand, was a deep shade of auburn, along with attractive hazel eyes. They were both pretty, and both were attracted to Harry. Harry knew this, but he had no ego to speak of, not letting it affect him, and besides, the fact that he was gay stood between them.

On this night, Harry found it handy that Tish had come over, and decided a second opinion was in order. When he blurted out his unceasing obsession to leave his current life behind, Tish, although wide-eyed, reacted quite differently than Audrey had. After she recovered from her initial shock, she took Harry's hand.

"I don't blame you—you know, sometimes I feel like that too. I don't think you're crazy, or _daft_ as you call it. Doesn't everyone have dreams like that?"

Harry was so delighted that at last someone accepted his fancy without glaring disbelief, that he could not restrain himself from laughing out loud, starting out with his unique barking sound.

"You understand! I know Audrey wants the best for me, is worried about me, but she made me feel a little on the mental side. And I really don't think she realized how much it's weighin' on me. You don't know how relieved I am that someone knows where I'm comin' from! But Tish, I know everyone probably has dreams like mine . . . but, this is much more serious than a dream. I can't stop thinkin' about it. It's with me all the time."

Now Tish's expression registered alarm more on par with Audrey's. She'd had no idea. But she saw the subtle change in her friend, now that she really concentrated on it. And true, Harry had been looking a little dazed and distant lately.

But one thing Tish knew for sure, and that was that Harry was not of the vagabond personality. He was settled, responsible, approaching maturity quickly. She couldn't see him as a drifter. One thing was obvious here—Harry was crying out for help, was terribly frustrated and felt powerless.

"I admit, at first I thought you were not doing much more than daydreaming about something that would never happen, but now I'm not so sure. You really are more than halfway serious about this, aren't you?"

Now Harry had no choice but to face his true inner feelings—be honest with himself. Tish was calling him on it. His quiet friend had a way of doing that; quietly bringing his thoughts and feelings to the fore—into focus.

Harry looked into Tish's eyes and knew the truth in a fraction of a second. That was all it took. It was that simple. Never before had anything in his life been so obviously laid out before him—except for his determination to come to the U.S.

 _Yes,_ he thought. _I really am serious._

He gasped softly. It brought a flush of excitement to his face, a quiver to his already unsteady hands. This revelation was overwhelming. And in a strange way, it was also a tremendous relief. He felt free.

"Yes, Tish," Harry whispered.

She responded by swallowing and licking her suddenly dry lips with an equally parched tongue.

 _She was going to lose Harry._

"Yes, I'm scared to even say the words, but I really am serious. And not halfway— but totally. I came to the U.S. from the U.K., didn't I? If I could do that, then I can do this."

Harry's mouth was also dry as the Arizona desert. The impact of actually speaking the words aloud was brutal, baldly shocking, even to himself. Something carefully concealed and constrained had now broken free.

They were only words—not actions, Harry tried to reassure himself. He could talk about it all he wanted, and never act on it. But somehow that thought was not as comforting as it should have been. And he knew why. Because he _wanted_ to act on it—more than anything he'd ever wanted before in his life. _Needed_ to act on it.

And most frightening of all, he feared he could not continue on _without_ acting on it.


	3. Chapter 3

Over the next two weeks, Harry began to make preparations for his journey. He studied maps of the United States, Googled different states to learn freeway systems, weather patterns, where horse and cattle ranches were located-any and all information he could gather that had any pertinence to his upcoming adventure and new life.

He began making lists of all the supplies he would need while traveling. He would not be able to take many of his belongings, and this ate at him. Trying to decide what items were of the most importance to him was taxing. At least he had the Rover-what if he'd had a small car? Still, only his clothes and the most indispensable possessions would fit in the vehicle. The difficult decision of what he could and could not part with could not be avoided. He knew Tish would keep a few items for him, but he could not ask his friend to store an apartment full of items. So the process of elimination began. He had already decided to give his furniture to Audrey and Tish. If they couldn't use it, they could always have a yard sale.

He would definitely have to make room for his little canvas two-man tent and sleeping bag. From the looks of what he'd been reading so far, some states were already unbearably hot even in spring. It might well be too hot to sleep in the Rover, so if conditions were safe, perhaps he could sleep outside in his tent occasionally.

He intended to stop at motels as seldom as possible to save the expense. Of course, he would have to rent a room often enough to bathe every other day or so. He detested the thought of being dirty for a while, but with any luck, it would not have to be endured for long. He intended to find a place to settle within a week or so.

This was his plan, but he was also aware that things might not fall right into place like they did in his dreams. It might be very unpleasant for a while, and he tried not to dwell on those particular thoughts.

Finding his ideal home quickly wouldn't happen—he knew that. He'd be happy with the barest of essentials to start with. He didn't need a big place-there was just him. Maybe he'd find a small house to rent near where he would work. But then, finding a job was the biggest hurdle.

He could not afford to spend money unnecessarily. Even the merest hint of car trouble generated intense anxiety. With the cost of two or three meals a day and gasoline, his money would disappear fast enough as it was. After all, he had no idea how far he'd be traveling. Only one thing was for sure. He would not be going east of the Mississippi.

And through it all, he felt terror creeping up on him, until it practically paralyzed him. He could scarcely believe he had enough courage to go through with this. He'd never been more than a few hours away from San Diego since he'd lived in the U.S.

He began having nightmares of driving endlessly, day after day, running low on money, and not finding any place where he might like to settle down. This move was so completely against his very nature, yet something within continued to beckon to him, whispering encouragement all the while. At times he could barely catch his breath from the anticipation as well as the fear.

He had already decided not to tell Audrey and Tish until he was only a week away from leaving. This would give them less time to try to talk him out of it, yet hopefully enough time for them to accept it. As for Dr. Jensen, he would give him two week's notice.

He called his mother as soon as he had decided he was definitely going through with it. She was very worried and uptight. He hadn't expected anything else. She kept telling him she'd send him money, but he refused. He promised to call her every day and tell her of his progress. After talking for over an hour, he felt secure in the belief that she had reluctantly accepted that he must do what he must do. It was what it was.

One thing was for certain-summertime was out, so he'd have to really step it up, considering it was almost mid-April now. In the course of his studies, he'd learned that New Mexico and Texas were frequently over one hundred degrees even in May. So there was no time to dilly dally. It was either leave soon- _very_ soon, or not go at all. And the latter was no longer an option.

As it was, he was likely to run into hot weather in his search for a job and home. Fortunately, Harry liked high temperatures much more than low ones. He'd had enough cold from his prior life in England. But he was realistic enough to know that extreme temperatures could be dangerous, and take a big toll on him as well as his Rover. He'd have to be well prepared. He would have to leave no later than May first. Three weeks. There was an awful lot to do in a very short time.

Water . . . lots and lots of water. It was the biggest essential of all. It would take up precious space, but he needed gallons and gallons of it at all times. Humans could not live long without in hot weather, and if his Rover overheated . . . Better not to dwell on that right now. Non-perishable snacks like granola, crackers, energy bars. Canned fruits, nuts, jerky. Blankets—as many as he could manage to pile into the SUV. A pillow, flashlights, umbrella, gloves, ear muffs, insect repellent, sunscreen, a few books. The list was endless, and just continued to get longer. Harry had a terrible fear of forgetting something important. He could always stop at a store, but that had to be avoided if at all possible to avoid diminishing his funds.

He had four thousand dollars saved, but that amount really wasn't much in this day and age. Moving into a rental was enormously expensive, he knew, with landlords usually requiring first, last and a deposit.

Then there was the daunting and overwhelming chore of finding a job. He may not find one right away, and most employees held back the first paycheck for two weeks. Four thousand could dissipate in no time at all. Now, if he had fifty thousand, he might feel a little more secure.

In the end, Harry decided to break the news to Audrey and Tish two weeks before he left. Audrey's quick mind was invaluable; she was practical as the day was long. He needed her advice and wisdom concerning supplies. She had the uncanny ability to stand back and evaluate things from every angle, analyzing from a cool, unemotional standpoint. However, she was anything but unemotional when Harry confessed his definite intentions of leaving on the first of May.

Her face went ghostly pale and a deep furrow settled between her eyebrows. The furrow Harry had only witnessed a few times. The furrow that only manifested itself when Audrey was truly dismayed. She attempted to speak several times, only a hoarse croak rolling off her tongue. Harry took her hand in his and sat silently beside her, feeling like the worse kind of deserter, and waited for her recovery.

"Harry . . . I've . . . you know I . . . I've been thinking about this idea of yours ever since you told me about it the first time. Somehow, deep inside, I knew you were serious. But . . . I wouldn't even admit it to myself. I will say this—it's absurd. You are the very last person I can think of who would . . . do something so dramatic, so reckless. I'm scared shitless for you.

"You are my best friend. How can I possibly let you drive across the country all by yourself? Something tragic could happen. You know that, don't you?"

He knew Audrey's concern was pure. She truly was frightened for his safety. He wasn't exactly the most wordly person around. Everyone knew that. Audrey's state of mind caused her to tremble with consternation for his well-being.

Without another word passing between them, Harry kind of collapsed into Audrey's arms. She was confused, feeling desolate right now, and she needed him. He felt as if his heart would crumble if she said one more word.

At that moment, Harry really questioned his sanity. How could he even consider leaving a friend as giving, as loyal, as precious as Audrey? She had always been his rock—solid and permanent. Never too tired or distracted to listen to his woes, getting up in the middle of the night without complaint when he would call her, because she heard the anxiety in his voice, suggesting they go out for a cup of coffee when she sensed his need.

His often unspoken sorrow about being gay never went unnoticed by her. And she knew it was often the source of his anxiety. She had danced around the living room with him when he was happy about something, was not afraid to sing silly songs with him when he was feeling goofy, offering to take him to a movie, even read books to him by the hour when he needed her companionship. They'd gone miniature golfing at two o'clock in the morning just for the hell of it, ridden roller coasters, screaming at the limit of their lungs' capacities, sat in front of a glowing fire at Audrey's house and talked of their dreams, listened to and commiserated with each other over Audrey's failed romances, and Harry's lack of them.

Yeah, Audrey had always been there to catch him and carry him through. 

The next day, Harry told Dr. Jenkins he would be leaving in two weeks. He told him the truth—that it had nothing to do with the doctor or the job. He just had to follow his heart, go to live in the country.

Dr. Jenkins was quite taken aback, as Harry had known he would be. He made Harry promise to call him if he ever ran into trouble or needed anything. Dr. Jenkins hated to lose Harry, but he was a realistic man, and he understood how young people had to find themselves. He had been young and reckless once himself, and he allowed himself a smile at the memory.

Harry called his favorite clients to tell them, and their reactions touched his heart. They made him feel important, needed. They said they would miss him terribly. Never seeing them or their beloved pets again hit Harry harder than he would have ever imagined.

The final two weeks were spent working, and then coming home to make more lists, and finally to actually making neat piles in the living room in front of his apartment door of the items he would be taking. Audrey and Tish had made a couple of trips over with Tish's dad's truck to pick up furniture, plus some other things Harry wanted to keep, but did not have room for in the Rover. Tish assured him she had plenty of room in her garage, and Harry's possessions would be kept dry and out of the elements. She assured Harry that he could send for them as soon as he was settled somewhere.

And of course, both girls tried several more times to talk Harry out of going. They felt he was being unreasonable, too hasty in his decision. They knew he was vulnerable, and that was what scared them the most. He wasn't shrewd enough, not street smart. He wasn't _tough._ But they couldn't tell him this frankly because they were afraid he'd think they thought of him as a wuss. Most of all, they treasured the friendship they'd had for years, fearing he would make the biggest mistake of his life by leaving.

After explaining the situation to his landlord, the man opted to waive a month's notice, knowing the young man was eager to go. Harry would be returned his security deposit and half of the last month's rent. This gave Harry a little extra money, something that had entirely slipped his mind, making it a welcome surprise. Every little bit would help. Besides, the landlord had a waiting list of tenants, and he was very fond of the nice young man that had never caused any trouble and had always paid on time.

Harry, Audrey and Tish all cried together one night. Tish said much the same as Audrey had—that if not for her job, she'd be tempted to go with him. This made Harry's gut clench, since taking either or both of them would have been a guaranteed great adventure. It would have been safer too, than traveling alone. But, of course, not reasonable.

It was with infinite relief that Harry came to realize his priceless friendship with the girls would remain intact. They insisted on it, no matter how far away he ended up moving.

On the day before Harry was to leave, Audrey and Tish brought over dinner to Harry's house. It was to be a farewell dinner, although no one said as much. They laughed and joked like they usually did, but there was a palpable undertone of sadness, of finality.

Harry was leaving first thing in the morning-very early so he wouldn't have to drive off as his friends watched. He knew he wouldn't be able to bear that. It was better this way, to say goodbye tonight. A little easier, but not by much.

At the inevitable end of the evening, Audrey and Tish clung to him for nearly five minutes, and Harry let his tears flow again. He had to keep assuring them over and over that he would call if he needed anything at all, and would regardless be calling them almost daily.

After the girls tearfully drove away, Harry closed his front door, then leaned back against it and sobbed some more.

Harry tossed and turned all night, hardly sleeping at all. Leaving Audrey, Tish, his job and his home to throw himself on the mercy of the world was unnerving in the worst way.

Everything would work out in the end, he kept reassuring himself. He could not go on with this restless yearning, since by now it was obvious it was not going to set him free. Not until he listened to it, and acted on it.

And there was someone special out there for him somewhere. He suspected this was part of the whole scenario. He was gay, and he knew it. Was not afraid to admit it to himself anymore. He'd find a mate, he kept telling himself over and over. Someone warm and sweet. A man who would love and respect him, and want to spend his life with him.

That feeling of hot desire crept up on him again. It whipped around him, creating that dull, aching throb below his waist. It made him feel heavy and took his breath away. It was time. He was twenty-three and had never been in a relationship. Harry had never known such unbearable yearning as he felt right now. He needed a partner, but that would come in time. Right now he needed, more than anything else, to get on the road with a passion that rocked him to the core.

Harry had done his homework. There would be no guesswork about what freeways he should take. He had pored over the maps so often that by now he practically had them memorized.

Being accustomed now to the pleasant Southern California weather, Harry was somewhat concerned about what he might come up against in other states. He had read up as much as possible, and some of his reading had been unsettling.

Unpredictable weather appeared to be the norm in some of these unfamiliar states. He had no idea how to drive in snow, blizzards, and God help him, what to do in a tornado or hurricane. Apparently, depending on the state you happened to be in, spring and summer held potentially more hazards than the fall and winter months.

He still had so much to learn, he mused. He'd had sun in California, and fog and rain in Britain, but even so, temperatures had rarely gone below the fifties. He was keyed up, jumpy and agitated by not knowing what was in store for him, and not knowing what to expect made him skittish.

He'd read about choking sandstorms in Texas, as well as almost unbearable heat and humidity in some areas. As if that weren't enough, the weather often changed with little or no warning, and residents had to watch the skies for signs of impending danger. Violent summer thunderstorms were yet another concern. Harry decided early on he would not drive in questionable conditions. He would just wait it out, whether in a motel room or inside the Rover.

Harry decided he would start out going through Arizona, New Mexico, and then Texas. If he did not find anything promising by then, he would start heading north, into Colorado, Utah, Nevada and possibly even Wyoming and Montana. But with any luck, he wouldn't have to go that far. He was hoping to fall in love with some small country town before he had to head north.

Job opportunities presented, by far, the biggest problem. He had to make money to live, and he imagined it would be more difficult to find a job in a small town. And if he couldn't find a job, he couldn't stay, no matter how much he liked a particular place.

He _did_ have something, someone to fall back on. Both Audrey and Tish had drummed it into his head that they were only a phone call away if something were to happen, and they'd be glad to come get him, any time of day or night. This knowledge afforded him some comfort. But at the same time, he was determined not to let that happen. Only in the worst case scenario would he call on his friends. Harry fully intended to make his dream come true, whatever hardships he might have to endure along the way. It was all a part of life, and growing up. He had no intention of failing at this undertaking. Although, relying on his innate good sense, he hoped he would know when he was beat.

That last morning, standing by the Rover, Harry felt raw, icy fear knife deep into his abdomen. The moment was near. He had packed the Rover yesterday. His last day at work had been two days ago, so he'd had those two days to ensure every detail for the preparation for his journey had been covered thoroughly.

The Rover was neatly, solidly packed, with every nook and cranny utilized to full advantage. Everything was arranged to afford maximum efficiency as space and convenience dictated.

The items to be used most frequently were within easy reach, and Harry carried a mental picture of the exact location of everything the vehicle contained. The passenger floor and seat held a few items that could be accessed quickly—flashlight, umbrella, pillow, blanket, snacks, jacket, drinking water, road flares and books among them.

He was as prepared as he possibly could be, under the circumstances, although he knew his journey would be anything but predictable. And still the near panic of his decision to throw all caution to the wind, and follow his dream was finally worming its way to the surface.

Up until now, he had been able to distract himself with the immediate, sensible concerns of getting ready. But now, with no stone left unturned, he was left uncomfortably free to entertain disturbing thoughts. He shook his head as if to banish them from his awareness.

The moment of truth had arrived. And the shock of it sent terrible tremors quaking through Harry's entire body. What in the world was he doing? This was insane! The reality, the finality, of it hit him hard. No job, no home, an old, unreliable vehicle. And here he was, following a fanciful whim.

But it was too late now. The apartment was no longer his. New tenants were moving in in a couple of days. He no longer had a job. So he might as well go ahead with his plans—there remained no reason to stay. He'd be homeless and jobless if he stayed in San Diego.

With a deep shaky breath, a few tears escaped his eyes as Harry settled into the driver's seat. He checked the rear view mirror. His belongings were piled just high enough so as not to obstruct his view. Memories began to explode behind his eyes. Audrey, Tish, his fellow employees, Dr. Jenkins, his riding instructor—the only people he'd allowed into his life, really, besides his family. Robin, the horse that had patiently taught him how to ride correctly.

A hard dry lump formed in his throat, and breathing became a struggle. Going where he knew not a soul, walking blind in totally unfamiliar territory, all alone. No one to turn to, no one to ease his fears. Fighting down the rising panic, and fearing he'd lose his nerve, Harry started the SUV and eased it firmly into gear, somehow summoning the courage to head toward the freeway to begin a totally new life.

Through the fog of his tears, Harry didn't notice the small car across and down the street a little way, discreetly parked, sandwiched between two vehicles. From within, a young woman solemnly watched him go. She had looked on impotently, helplessly, as Harry had wept before getting into his Rover. As usual, he looked so fine, wearing a black t-shirt, skinny jeans and his signature boots. Even at this distance, she thought she could see his hands tremble on the steering wheel. Ah, the splendor of Harry Styles . . . and now she was losing him.

She watched as he drove away. As his Rover disappeared around a corner and out of her sight, Audrey's tears at last flowed freely from her eyes as she prayed for his safety. She collapsed against the steering wheel, her auburn hair falling forward to cover her face. Harry had gone to pursue his dream, leaving her behind. She'd had to let him go, even loving him as she did.


	4. Chapter 4

Harry busied his mind purposely to avoid disconcerting thoughts. His goal was to spend a maximum of one hundred twenty dollars a day. It sounded like a lot, but when you factored in thirty dollars for gas, twenty for food and around seventy for a motel room like Budget Inn, it was a fact he couldn't get around. He would easily end up spending over a thousand dollars in two weeks, even if he slept in the Rover some nights. This was assuming nothing untoward happened, such as a breakdown.

Two weeks on the road was a long time, though, and he hoped fervently to find something long before then. He would need every extra dime to get himself a rental and the expenses that went with it.

He planned on driving maybe six hours a day, not including the time it would take him to eat lunch and exit the freeway to look around for a promising area. This meant approximately an eight or nine hour day altogether. It would leave him with sufficient time to get dinner and a room for the night before dark. He would start out at seven in the morning and finish at about four or five in the afternoon, eat dinner, and be safely indoors in a room before six. He would have plenty of time each night to look over his maps for the next day's travel.

At this time of the year it got dark at about seven. Some days might be spent almost entirely off the freeway, searching. From now on, nothing would be a sure thing. This was the true meaning of "winging it."

 _Here goes nothing._

On the interstate heading toward Arizona, Harry felt the sense of foreboding bearing down on him again. The whole adventure was still foggy—he felt like a blind person stumbling about in a dreamlike state.

Apprehension clouded his thinking, made it difficult for him to concentrate on the road. He was utterly alone. There was no one for him to answer to; yet again, there was also no one for him to turn to. His heart raced, his palms moist on the steering wheel, and he felt a bit dizzy and sick.

The U.S. was completely foreign to him. He couldn't seem to shake it, even knowing he had people he could call if he had to. Why had he had gone ahead with this, he wondered. It was certainly against his nature, but whatever was calling to him was more tenacious than the fear. The power it had over him truly astonished him.

Crossing the Mojave desert, everything was barren and dry. There was nothing but miles upon miles of openness. Nothing but Joshua trees, cholla and sagebrush. Strangely, Harry welcomed it. No tall buildings, no city streets to suffocate him with the feeling of closeness and no freedom. He felt freer than he ever had in claustrophobic urban settings. The occasional roadrunner, quail, rabbit or squirrel could be seen sprinting from bush to bush, and they made him smile.

He rolled his window down, and gradually, his mood changed to almost carefree with his long dark hair blowing recklessly around his face. Good thing it was May and not August, as he really didn't like running the air conditioning. Just one more thing that could cause problems. He was also afraid of the Rover overheating, even though it never had before. He wished he didn't fret so much about things that would probably never come about.

The next one hundred miles fairly flew by. He passed very few vehicles along the way. Today he wouldn't stop for lunch. He munched a sandwich he'd packed as he drove, trying to clock as many miles as he could.

Before he knew it, he was in Yuma, Arizona. This land was also hot and dry, much like the desert he'd just crossed. As if responding to a silent signal, most of the radio stations were suddenly in Spanish. Oldies were the only other music he could find on the dial.

An hour or so later, the interstate followed the route of early Spanish explorers and settlers. Harry knew this from the research he'd done on the route he'd be taking. Bright-eyed, he scanned the horizon and tried to imagine what it would be like to be traveling in this area all those years ago. How chokingly dusty it must have been with the horses constantly stirring it up, and covered wagons lurching unremittingly over the uneven terrain.

When he reached Gila Bend, there was still not much to look at. He soon came to the junction of Interstate Eight and Interstate Ten. At least there was no confusion there. It was pretty straightforward. It would be difficult to get lost, something Harry seemed to have a talent for. Now he would follow the I-10 clear into Texas. No chance of losing his way.

So far, he'd seen nothing of interest in Arizona. The day had passed so quickly, and he knew now that he had been unconsciously looking forward to reaching Texas. Hence, he'd had no real desire to exit the freeway to explore Arizona.

When a sign told him he'd reached Tucson, Harry figured he had covered 350 miles, or close to that. He had only filled the gas tank once since leaving San Diego, so he was getting great gas mileage. Thank goodness the Rover granted him that. In much better spirits now, he figured he'd call it a day.

After eating a couple of tacos at a fast food restaurant, Harry got a room just off the freeway. The man at the reception desk looked at him curiously, noting his long hair and uncommonly good looks. Harry merely smiled politely, then went out to the Rover and parked it in front of his room, unloading a container of drinking water and some snacks. It was a decent enough motel to spend the night at. At least he would have a bed to sleep in instead of the Rover. For now, anyway.

Harry was more tired than he'd first thought. His back was stiff and a travel weariness enveloped him soon after. He was not accustomed to so much uninterrupted driving. After putting his snacks and water into the small refrigerator, he took a leisurely shower. Then he settled into bed and briefly went over his maps, his nearly black wavy hair draping over the maps he was trying to study. Even though he'd already had an idea, he confirmed that he would be able to reach El Paso by tomorrow with ease. It was about 250 miles away.

He would be in New Mexico only briefly, as the freeway passed over a small slice of it. Something was definitely calling him toward Texas, since Arizona and New Mexico held not the least temptation for him. Neither did any other states, come to think of it. For some reason he couldn't isolate, Texas held a strange allure.

He would be there tomorrow! A tremor of excitement ran through him. He called his mom, Tish and Audrey to let them know where he was and that all was well. He talked to his mom the longest, but he felt he owed it to her. She had, after all, raised him and he'd always be her little boy, as she reminded him at the end of the conversation.

He woke early, totally refreshed and eager to get back on the road. After a shower and a quick breakfast of cold cereal he'd brought along, and a pint of milk and orange juice he bought at a convenience store, he was on his way.

East of Tucson, he passed Saguaro National Park, where he could view forty foot Saguaro cactus from the freeway. It was quite impressive, and he stared with wide eyes. He had read that Saguaro cactus do not grow at all in Texas, although it was a common misconception. Benson led him over the mountains that one hundred plus years ago were the stronghold of Apache warriors under Geronimo and Cochise. He felt strangely as if he'd been thrust back in time, and could almost envision the proud Indians riding their courageous pinto ponies over the impressive mountains. There were no more mountains until he reached Tombstone.

At last, he entered Boothell, New Mexico. At this point in time, the arid air was making his mouth and throat feel as if they were stuck together. His tongue felt gritty and bone dry. The water he carried with him was warm, and just not quenching his thirst, so he spontaneously pulled off the freeway to find a fast food restaurant drive-through where he could get a cold soft drink.

He didn't see one nearby, and did not want to get lost in an unfamiliar town, so he pulled into a fairly decent looking sports bar—or at least that is what it appeared to be. Harry never hung out in those types of places, so he figured he'd just ask for an orange soda and be on his way.

The second he entered the bar, all talk ceased, and a couple dozen men turned to stare at him. Harry felt the hairs on his forearms and the back of his neck stand on end. He immediately felt creeped out, but wasn't quite sure why. He came close to turning around and ducking back out, but he was thirsty, and damned if these men's gazes were going to make him uneasy. Several guys were playing pool, with the rest sitting at the bar and various tables, drinking and watching sports on the television mounted on the far wall. At least they _had_ been doing these things, until Harry appeared. It was as if everyone froze, and Harry was suddenly center stage.

And then he saw it—a large painting of the silhouette of a naked man on the wall behind the bar.

 _Oh shit._ It hit him like a sledge hammer. He'd walked into a gay sports bar! Talk about bad luck. And from the looks on the men's faces as they gazed at him, they liked what they saw. Very much.

Harry was on display, every eye in the place on him. Their eyes penetrated him, and Harry didn't like their expressions. He felt as self-conscious as if he were totally naked, like the painting on the wall. Several of the men wore cowboy hats and boots. Others looked like typical Californians, with baseball caps and tee shirts, but they all had an unsavory vibe.

Their rude stares were making Harry not only intimidated, but a little irritated as well. He knew he couldn't show it though, as there was only one of him and _many_ of _them._ Aside from that, he didn't even know how to fight.

Remembering how he'd heard somewhere that if tell yourself you are confident, you will appear that way, Harry put on his best imitation of someone who is completely self-assured. He eased right up to the bar in his best macho manner and asked the bartender for an orange soda to go, then tried on a bad boy persona, casually resting a forearm on the bar, his tattoos in view, cocking and leaning his hip against a barstool, and peering around with narrowed, critical eyes. Sadly, even he himself knew he wasn't in the least convincing. The bartender scrutinized him thoroughly, obviously seeing right through his act. The bartender was a lot more discreet than his patrons, however.

With his soda in hand, Harry took a sip as he waited for his change. From out of nowhere, one of the men suddenly appeared beside and slightly behind him. Much too close. He was so close Harry could feel the heat of his body, and smell the beer on his breath, not to mention rancid sweat.

Harry had learned early in life—escalating in his early teens, that he seemed to be very attractive to others of both genders, and this was a gay bar after all. It was a matter of survival that Harry knew with an odd sixth sense that the man beside him was a predator. But the guy soon became so obvious that Harry didn't really need any help from his intuition. This guy was as subtle as a bull.

The guy was about Harry's size, but with a confident swagger than made him appear bigger than he was. He leered at Harry out of the corner of his eye in a way that made Harry's stomach lurch. If he didn't think Harry knew what he was up to, he was sadly mistaken. Harry could feel his eyes staring right through him as well as up and down his body, as if he was actually touching him. Harry suppressed a shudder with great effort.

When the bartender at last gave Harry the change he was owed, Harry felt as if he'd been waiting a lifetime, with this scuzzy guy breathing down his neck. But Harry's predator figured he'd better move fast, before Harry left, and his chance was lost.

As Harry turned to stride toward the exit door, the man spoke up.

"You new here, pretty boy?" he asked, and Harry was shocked at the man's forwardness. The man's speech was slightly slurred, which explained his boldness, but Harry had the feeling the people in this bar were generally not shy anyway. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see others starting to gravitate toward him.

 _Wonderful_.

If he ran, he feared they'd chase him and do God knows what to him when they caught him.

"Why doncha sit down and talk at me a while?" the man inquired.

"I really don't have time. I'm in a hurry," Harry started to edge away when the man caught his upper arm with lightning speed.

"Well, what do ya know? British accent! Will ya listen to that?" the predator threw over his shoulder at the other men who were now crowding in ever closer. "He's a pretty Brit! With some mighty sultry green eyes and look at this long, curly hair. What a prize this one is!"

The guy made a grab for Harry's hair with the hand that wasn't gripping his arm, but the Cheshire lad jerked his head so that his hair swung out of reach.

The other men grunted their approval, feasting their eyes on Harry as if he were a scrumptious treat.

Harry felt genuine fright skip up his spine. How was he going to stand up to all these men? And gay, horny ones, too? Harry was afraid to shake the man's hand off his arm. He'd been drinking, and it probably wouldn't take much to trigger him into anger. Harry just wanted to avoid trouble however possible.

"Jake, leave the poor guy alone now. He said he has to go." There was a menacing undertone to the bartender's voice, implying threat, and it caressed Harry's nerves like a balm. _Someone was on his side._ Apparently the barkeep had enough influence to stop the guy in his tracks, for the predator hesitated. Thank God for that bartender, for he was not going to let the tipsy man take advantage, and it looked like Harry might have a chance to get away.

The man named Jake promptly loosened his grip on Harry's arm, then reluctantly let it go under the bartender's grim unflinching expression. Harry nodded a silent thanks to the man behind the bar, and walked quickly to the door, covering the distance in record time with his long legs. It was all he could do to keep from running to his Rover.

He watched the rear view mirror to be sure no one exited the bar and got into a vehicle to follow him, but no one did.

 _Whew, close one_. He'd be a hell of a lot more careful from now on.

Chocolate, that was it. Chocolate would fix it. As Harry pulled out of the bar parking lot and was safely headed back toward the freeway once again, he fished a Snickers bar from under his jacket on the passenger seat with slightly quivering hands.

He made a concerted effort not to think about what might have happened back there at the bar, had the bartender kept silent or lost control of the dodgy crowd. There had been at least twenty men in that place, and things could have escalated in no time.

He rolled the chocolate sensually over his tongue. It always came to the rescue. Most of the time, anyway. Although, inevitably, there were some things in life even chocolate could not remedy. Was it true that chocolate really contained a chemical that was similar in make up to sexual satisfaction? True, it made him feel good, but compete with sexual satisfaction? Even chocolate had its limits. And it stopped way short of satisfying _that_ craving.

The restless yearning was back. But Harry could no longer simply call it wanderlust. He was wandering, for sure, but the yearning was still present. Most assuredly, it ran much deeper. All right—he guessed finding a cowboy wouldn't be half bad. _Not_ the kind of cowboy he'd seen in the bar though, he thought bitterly, disgust coating him like slime.

From Boothell he headed once again toward El Paso. Perhaps he had been judgmental in being in such a hurry to get out of New Mexico, but if those men in that bar were representative in any way of the males in that state, Harry was not eager to hang around.

But then again, he had had no desire to look around in Arizona either.

 _Face it, Harry. You're eager and anxious to get a look at a real Texas cowboy._

Every time Harry stopped to gas up, he checked his oil and radiator water. This was probably overdone, but he needed no car problems. The Rover ran cool, and he was getting close to what he hoped would bring him some luck. Texas.

As he came upon the Rio Grande, right on the border of Mexico, he was delighted to see a sign that read El Paso was now only sixty miles away. He realized then that he'd forgotten to stop for lunch. Glancing at his watch, he saw it was only eleven-fifteen. He'd gotten here much quicker than he'd previously thought he would.

He had driven straight through—except for that brief stop at the bar. Texas had been in the back of his mind all along. So Texas it was.

The last sixty miles whipped by like Harry's hair in the breeze. Almost immediately, things felt different. It was warmer, and the skies were somehow more vast. As a little boy Harry remembered checking out every book in the library having to do with Texas and/or cowboys. He had even told his mother that was where he was going to live when he grew up. As a cowboy. His mother had chuckled, thinking it was just a passing childhood fantasy. Now Harry was stunned to realize he was pursuing just that—his childhood dream.

He was going to live in Texas—he just knew it. Maybe not as a cowboy, but with any luck . . . Applying for jobs at ranches was his first priority. He smiled at his innocent optimism. He seriously doubted any rancher would want to hire him. He could ride, but English style, not Western. And he knew precisely nothing about ranch work.

Even just mucking out stalls would make him happy though, thinking back about how he did that when young in England. One thing was for certain. He would never work for a veterinarian again. Not that he hadn't enjoyed working for Dr. Jenkins. He had many happy memories of that place. He was just burned out on it. After a while, there had been no challenges left, and he had felt stuck in one spot, nowhere else to go. Physically or mentally. There was no chance for advancement in the field.

He had seen it in other people's eyes—the lack of understanding his motivation to leave. They didn't comprehend why he'd want to change his life so drastically. He'd done it though—he'd left, despite what their opinions might be, and was exceedingly proud of himself. He'd struck out on his own.

Remembering Dr. Jenkins' expression when he'd broken the news that he was leaving . . . he thought he'd seen a faint glimmer of something in the older man's eyes. Admiration? Had the vet ever entertained reckless feelings when he was younger? Wished he'd acted on them? Was it possible the vet was the only one who understood in some small way his need to do this?

Oddly, Harry found some solace in the man's gentle, seemingly approving eyes; a bit of encouragement, as if he were almost proud of him, and perhaps even feeling a twinge of envy, but would not admit it aloud.

He was in Texas at last, but a job wasn't going to come rushing up to greet him, and he wasn't going to be presented with a key to a place to live. His whole life was in limbo, and he had to find the missing pieces, grasp all the responsibilities firmly, and not despair. The going might get nasty, and he could easily be discouraged after a few disappointments. His money would not last forever, but he had to keep his chin up and keep trying. He strove to remain positive, yet also tried not to allow false hopes to cause him to be unrealistically hopeful. Not an easy undertaking.

 _Just do it!_

No more analyzing for the moment. Tish had often likened him to Woody Allen because she said Harry consistently picked everything apart philosophically, as if understanding something inside and out would somehow make everything fall magically into place. Harry, teasingly, would call Tish a proverbial Edith Bunker, with her meek, obliging temperament. They laughed at themselves as much as they poked fun at each other. They had sensitive natures in common. Harry already missed their gentle sparing.

Then there was Audrey, who he knew thought she was in love with him. Whether she was or not, Harry wasn't certain, but he did know he wasn't going to miraculously turn straight, as much as he might want to, and even though Audrey knew he was gay, she had seemed to be dangling from a thin thread of hope that someday she'd win him over. Harry already knew no one could change his sexuality—this kind of thing remained static. So, cruel as it seemed, it was in actuality a good thing for Audrey that he had left. Now that there would be considerable distance between them, he hoped she would begin to look at, and date, the many straight guys around her that were attracted to her, and she just wasn't seeing because she was blinded by her adoration for Harry. He wasn't perfect, and he knew that, but for some reason Audrey saw him that way.

He shook his head, trying to clear it of these reflections that threatened to weigh him down with awful homesickness. For both Cheshire and California. His new chapter in life was beginning, and he was determined to make the most of it.


	5. Chapter 5

Out of nowhere, it seemed as if all the vehicles on the road were now trucks. Trucks everywhere. He had read that Texans love trucks, and now he saw how true it was. He had never seen so many different trucks in his life, most of them being half or three-quarter ton.

Being down to half a tank, Harry was taking no chances. He stopped in El Paso for gas and a cold drink. After crossing great expanses of desert already, he knew it was much better to top off his tank than to take a risk of running low, especially being unfamiliar with the area and where gas stations were located.

As soon as he entered the convenience store, Harry was hit with something different in the air. The atmosphere was palpably relaxed, laid-back. Harry could not have found the words to explain it. Whatever it was though, it felt good, safe, homey.

He located an orange soda and a Payday candy bar, taking them to the register. An older man of about fifty-five or so stood behind the counter. He wore a cowboy hat, plaid shirt, and sported a thick reddish mustache. He looked every inch a cowboy.

Accustomed to California, where convenience store clerks, and most everyone else for that matter, were perpetually in a hurry to move customers on through, Harry put his soda on the counter and asked for fifteen dollars of gas on number seven.

The clerk stepped back and studied him carefully, then smiled slowly and glanced out the glass doors at Harry's Rover.

"California license plates, huh? Well, young man, ah take it you're new in these parts." His accent was very, very southern; a slow, easy drawl.

"Yes, actually I am. I've always wanted to see what Texas was like." Harry smiled, feeling at ease with the guy, and happy to have someone to talk to after being so alone since he'd left San Diego.

In seemingly slow motion, the man adjusted his hat, scratched his ear and cleared his throat. If Harry had been in a hurry, he had the distinct feeling that nothing short of a fire would have made any difference. In fact, he couldn't even imagine this man hurrying in a fire.

Southern Californians were supposed to be slower paced than New Yorkers, but right now, California seemed to be triple time, if all Texans were like this guy. Harry was mystified by this guy's deliberate languor.

Harry found himself fidgeting and fighting the urge to drum his fingers on the counter in impatience. Harry might talk slow, but he felt restive compared to this Texan. But then, why was he being uptight? He wasn't in a hurry anyway. He was glad to have someone to chat with, and the guy was more than willing to shoot the breeze, so why not? There was certainly no rush.

"Yer from England, ain't ya?" the Texan's interest was really piqued now. Harry nodded and smiled. "Cheshire."

"Well, what do ya know? What brings ya to the states?"

So Harry explained the situation about being here for years, but suddenly getting the urge to wander, and just following his instincts.

The man was utterly charming, and his almost lazy demeanor calmed Harry's still rather frazzled nerves after his run-in at the bar in New Mexico.

"People in Texas are mighty glad to see new faces. We're known as the friendliest state. Why, I reckon Texas is the best place to be. You plannin' on stayin'?"

Harry supposed he had meant the state in general.

"Well, yeah. Like, um, I'd love to settle here somewhere, man. I need to find a job and a place to live. Can you tell me where I can find some ranches?"

As he considered Harry's question, the man shifted his weight onto one hip and cocked it, very cowboy-like as he also hooked his thumbs in his wide silver belt buckle. He scratched his chin thoughtfully, then stroked his bristly mustache as he peered at Harry with uncontained curiosity. He seemed to take an eternity to answer.

"Yeah, there's quite a few ranches, dependin' on where yer headed. Which way ya goin'?"

Harry was stumped. He felt stupid and uninformed. He had no idea which way he was going, now that he was actually, finally, in Texas. Just getting to Texas had been his goal, and he hadn't had a chance to think much beyond that. Even though he felt foolish and embarrassed, something about this cheerful, open man made him spit out the truth.

"Well, to be honest, I really don't know where I'm headed, yeah? What would you recommend that is ranch country?"

He knew he sounded naïve, not to mention maybe even flighty and flaky, but he really wanted the guy's opinion. The man just had that look about him—like he could yield valuable information.

This called for some major calculating. Lips pursed, and a boot heel now propped on a foot stool, the Texan appraised Harry with a raised brow, as if there was something he was just dying to let leak from his lips, but he felt discretion was necessary. That, however, didn't last long, for he sighed deeply, and said, almost sadly, "You don't look much like a cowboy to me, young man."

"Oh, but I can ride," Harry countered lightning fast. "I ride English, but I can handle a horse."

The man looked dubious, considered again, endlessly, then spoke. "Okay, well, Pecos comes to mind. It's about two hundred miles from here. Maybe a little less. It's a small town. You take the ten freeway along the Rio Grande, fifty miles or so. Then it's about a hundred miles to where the ten turns into the twenty. Then it's about forty miles to Pecos. Don't go east; that would take you to Stockton. Go north. Pecos is known as prob'ly the friendliest town in Texas. There's several big ranches that're over twenty thousand acres. Most raise cattle, a couple raise horses too. There's lots more ranches up north, in the Llano Estacado area, known as the White Plains, but the weather's right rough up there. I have a hunch y'all would like Pecos a lot."

He pronounced Pecos _Pay-Cuss._ This must be the correct pronunciation, Harry assumed, since the guy was, after all, a Texan. Harry was suddenly uplifted and excited—he had read exactly what this man had told him—that Pecos was known for its friendly people, and he liked the idea of a small town atmosphere. It was also a lot closer than north or east Texas, with the weather also being much milder and not humid like so many areas in Texas. So Pecos would definitely be the first place he would check out.

A customer in line behind Harry joined in the conversation as if he were an old friend. He had been standing there for several minutes, perfectly content to relax and listen in. Harry wondered if anyone in Texas was _ever_ in a hurry.This must just be a way of life for them. But what if they had an appointment somewhere? Were they chronically late?

"Yeah, Pecos is havin' their yearly Huck Finn Jubilee tomorrow," drawled the customer. "Three days, Friday through Sunday. Should be a lotta people there tomorrow, it being Saturday."

The customer had the same deliberate, measured speech to go along with his sedate mannerisms. Everything they did looked to Harry as if they were underwater. He'd have to learn to slow down and ease along like a turtle if he was going to hang around. Otherwise, he'd go crazy after having the California influence for years. He'd be finding himself wanting to finish people's sentences for them, mentally coaxing them to hurry up, raising his anxiety, and probably his blood pressure too.

But he had to admit the thought of slowing down held a pleasant appeal. Heck, he already talked slow, so he was actually already halfway there. He had lived a pressurized existence for way too long. What a stark contrast this was to the vet hospital he'd worked in! This clerk most likely discussed the weather, gossip, and whatever else came to mind with everyone who patronized the store . . . and took his time about it. Harry didn't have any remaining doubts that it was a way of life out here, and he decided he liked it.

He thanked the men profusely for their help and input, and left feeling rather sanguine, and itching to find out as much as he could about Texas ranches.

He'd been doing well with money so far. And he'd still have most of it if he were to settle in Pecos soon. Now was the time to buckle down and plug away until he found his destiny. That might have sounded a bit on the dramatic side, but that was how seriously Harry looked at it.

At the coffee shop he stopped at for lunch, the enthusiastic waitress seated him at a window table. Everyone in the place seemed to be smiling and generally happy with their lot in life. What a refreshing change from the sometimes urgent looking, distracted faces he'd seen in California. He'd really liked California, but Texas seemed more his speed. More of a laid back way of life. He tended to think in romantic terms, and Little House on the Prairie came to mind.

Harry doubted everyone in Texas was in this cheerful frame of mind, but the ratio had to be pretty high, judging from what he'd seen so far. He heard that charming drawl emanating from all corners of the restaurant, some accents much heavier than others.

But one thing was for sure—no one was talking in that rushed, clipped staccato speech he'd grown accustomed to. In Britain, _everyone_ seemed to speak fast. Here, people took their time, stretched their bodies leisurely at the tables and booths where they sat, mulled things over thoroughly before speaking.

Harry found quickly that Texans are big on chili and anything barbequed. The menu featured several specials on barbequed ribs and chicken. Tex-Mex food was also very popular, especially here near the border of Mexico. Tex-Mex, the waitress explained, was a blend of Native American, Mexican, and Anglo cuisine. She was charmed by Harry's accent, and he resigned himself to the idea that virtually everyone he met would be asking about from where in Britain he hailed.

Harry ordered the ribs and was amazed at how good they were. His appetite was the best it had been in weeks. He even had dessert—apple pie with vanilla ice cream.

Mimicking the other customers, Harry leaned back, draping his arms along the back of his booth and peered out of the window after he was done eating, leisurely sipping a second cup of coffee. Sagebrush, creosote, prairie grass and cactus were widespread, and he noticed wildflowers growing abundantly near dwellings and businesses. Texans were clearly serious about their native blooms.

Sitting there, Harry realized he'd never taken the time to stop and really enjoy and savor nature. Always living in the city, he'd never had the opportunity to just allow his mind to be quiet as he was now doing. It was healing, serene. He was able to study a roadrunner leisurely making his unhurried way across the road instead of running at warp speed the way he'd always believed they did, a horned toad sunning himself on a smooth rock. There were birds galore, more varieties than he'd ever observed in one place.

Is this where he was meant to be, to settle down? This slow paced, casual, friendly atmosphere in Texas?

He called his mum. "I'm fine," he answered with a smile before she had a chance to grill him. "I'm in El Paso. The Rover is runnin' fine." He knew that would be her next question. I'm gonna check out Pecos tomorrow. Sounds like a super friendly town, and it has ranches too! They move slow, talk slow, like a movie set to slow motion. I wish you could be here to experience it with me."

"I'm so relieved to hear you soundin' so good, Harry. You sound happy, yeah?"

"I think I am, but I'm like, real nervous about findin' a job and all."

"Right, well, if anything comes up, if you need any money, I can Western Union . . . "

"Mum, I'm fine. Remember, I have the money that was in me savings account."

"I know, but still. Harry, I worry about you . . . yeah? "

Here we go again. Harry consoled her as best he could. What more could he do?

"Please be safe, son," Anne implored him as they rang off. Made him feel so stinkin' guilty, although he knew she didn't mean to.

After withdrawing some cash from the ATM at a liquor store, as he did daily, he was set again for the road. He didn't like carrying large sums, so he withdrew money every afternoon.

Bluebonnets, everywhere. Harry had read Texas sprouts bluebonnets in spring, but he'd had no idea how profuse they were. In some places, they literally covered the countryside with a continuous blanket of vivid blue. Soothing and invigorating in the same breath. They added a mystical sense as he drove.

The weather was good. About eighty-five degrees, with just a hint of a pleasant breeze. The sky seemed to stretch forever, vastly open and almost cloudless, yet at the same time it seemed close enough for him to reach up and touch it. And so blue—Harry had never witnessed such a pure, clean shade of azure.

Later that afternoon, when Harry reached the town of Pecos, he was instantly intrigued. It was a medium-small size town, only a fraction the size of Dallas or Houston, but yet wasn't a tiny one-horse town, as the saying went. There were convenience stores, grocery stores, several restaurants, gas stations, a post office, a club or two, a bank, hairdresser, feed stores—just about everything you could possibly need.

Harry drove around aimlessly for a while, exploring. He knew the ranches were probably located on the outskirts of town, and wondered if he should ask someone if they knew of anyone who was hiring.

The first thing that caught his eye when entering Pecos was the billboard announcing the Huck Finn Jubilee that the man in El Paso had mentioned was taking place this weekend. On almost every road he traveled there were signs posted with arrows pointing the way to the Jubilee. Must be a big deal here.

Absently, Harry toyed with the idea of attending the Jubilee tomorrow, Saturday. It would be interesting and entertaining, if nothing else, and he would likely have an opportunity to get a better feel of the town and the people who lived there.

The billboard had promised live country and blue grass music, games, contests, merchandise, a mini circus, arm wrestling, horseshoe throwing and even a yodeling contest. He could spend part of the day mingling and possibly finding out information about ranch employment in the area. At the very least, he could ask where to find the ranches, and since people seemed to like to talk here, he might get some real leads.

After locating a motel, Harry bought some take-out Chinese food so he could eat in his room. Both the waitress at the restaurant who packed up his order and the man behind the counter at the motel were friendly and sincere with their greetings. They didn't pry though, and he was glad. Once again, he was worn out.

Once in his room, Harry found a local television station serving Pecos, Midland, and Odessa, the latter two nearby towns. Harry began to look forward to the Huck Finn Jubilee festivities. He realized now how very badly he wanted to make Pecos his home. Already the town gave him a warm feeling, and it would solve so many problems. He wouldn't have to begin sleeping in the Rover to save money, and also wouldn't have to put more miles on it. He went to bed hoping the Jubilee would help to direct him to the job he needed so desperately.

When Harry arrived at the Jubilee at ten the next morning, the parking lots at the park where it was located were already jammed full of mostly pick-up trucks. The park was huge—many acres, and Harry followed the crowd to the main stage, where a bluegrass band was in full swing. Plenty of huge shade trees to sit under and enjoy the music.

He looked at the exhibits, and attended the mini circus, not being able to resist a frozen banana from one of the concession stands.

The whole affair was charming and quaint, reminding Harry of what festivities like this must have been like in the Old West. The warm sun was like a caress on his shoulders, even through his button-down shirt. Unencumbered, Harry felt a sense of light freedom instead of tight, stressed anxiety as it had been for much of this trip so far. The vague cloud of unease over his lack of employment lingered, but he pushed it to the back of his mind, determined that he would have a fun, relaxing day with no driving, and hopefully, with any luck, picking someone's brain about a job.

After watching an arm wrestling match, Harry just sat and people-watched for a while in a canvas chair he'd brought with him, in the shade, enjoying the breeze ruffling his hair. There were plenty of men wearing cowboy hats, some shirtless with beer bellies hanging over their jeans. It may have been his imagination, or wishful thinking, but Harry felt these people were much more easy going and temperate than either Cheshire or San Diego. They were relaxed and smoothly sauntering around, and they didn't seem to require constant intense entertainment like much of what he'd seen in his lifetime. They were happy with simplicity

Although quite a number of people were drinking beer, no one was boisterous; but there was definitely an abundance of loud laughter and thigh slapping.

Harry's eyes constantly roving over the crowd with keen inquisitiveness, he caught sight of a cowboy at the edge of his vision. Something about the way the man moved grabbed his attention, although what exactly that was, Harry couldn't have said. Initially he was just an impression in Harry's periphery, but something about the man's aura caused Harry to turn his head to have a good look at him.

Perhaps it _had_ been the man's manner that had snagged Harry's attention and drawn his gaze, but in gazing in-depth at him, something tangible seemed to leap out at Harry.

It could well have been his spirited, almost bouncy gait, since he was pacing, or maybe even his own brand of masculine ease. How could you pace with ease, anyway? Most people who pace are nervous. But something aside from that was there too. A kind of self-assured presence. This cowboy had a fluid confidence that seemed to call for constant motion. He contrasted with the people around him with his vigor.

Whatever it was, it had attracted Harry from thirty yards away. Oddly, once Harry fastened his eyes on him, he had much difficulty tearing them away.

Slim yet muscled, and of average height, the guy wore a long sleeved white shirt, a red white and blue bandana knotted around his neck, and the signature Wrangler jeans that all _real_ cowboys wore. No authentic cowboy would be caught dead wearing any other brand. He wore black boots and a grey Stetson atop his head. Harry couldn't see what color his hair was because of the hat, but he suddenly wished he were an artist so he could attempt to draw him. The contours of the cowboy's face forced Harry to pull in a sharp breath. His facial angles were perfect. Now he patently had Harry's full attention.

The voices of the singers onstage faded into the background, he heard and saw little else as his regard stayed zeroed in on the cowboy. Captivated, Harry continued to watch him closely out of the corner of his eye. He was grateful he was wearing sunglasses, because he would be mortified if the cowboy noticed him staring.

The cowboy moved with an economy of motion, perfectly comfortable with his own body. His legs were true horseman's legs—shapely and well- muscled from long hours in the saddle. And his butt! Holy mother of God! Perfection. Pure perfection. It looked fabulous on him, being round and firm and luscious.

Harry had known from the first glance that this was not a wannabe cowboy. This was the real thing. And, as he watched on, the cowboy unknowingly gave him a show, his attractive walk being loose and springy and little bit . . . cocky.

The rest of his body suggested much the same thing. A hard, flat belly, nice chest, muscled biceps that Harry could see the outline of even under his shirt. A lot of work had created those muscles, and Harry was certain it wasn't from going to a gym. It was from hard ranch work.

No overdone roughness, but maybe a smidge of arrogance. Men differed in degree of masculinity, some being almost feminine in manners, others brutishly male to the point of being nearly uncivilized. This guy was more on the masculine side, but with a certain refinement that Harry couldn't quite put his finger on.

As Harry watched, the cowboy continued to pace a bit restlessly, smoking a cigarette, taking drags frequently. Mesmerized, Harry found himself spellbound.

 _Had a man ever affected him this way?_ No . . . most certainly not. Not to this degree.

Was he the only one affected like this? Heavens, Harry couldn't even tell if the cowboy was handsome from this distance. But that strong chin—those fabulous cheekbones . . . once again Harry yearned for a canvas, because even though he wasn't an artist, even at this distance, he would be very surprised if the cowboy wasn't good looking.

Harry tried to go back to his previous attitude, and just enjoy the beautiful spring day. But his mind would drift feebly, always returning to the cowboy, even as he tried to nudge him out of his thoughts. Disgusted with himself, not remembering when he'd ever felt so out of control, Harry sneaked another peek in his direction.

Gone! The cowboy was gone—no longer there. He had disappeared, just like that. It hadn't been three minutes since Harry had looked at him. Scanning the crowd thoroughly, there was no sign of him. Good. Now maybe he could go back to relaxing. He leaned back in his chair, trying to resume his mindless sense of leisure. But just for a short while. Even when he closed his eyes, the physique of the cowboy nagged at him ceaselessly.

Hmmmm . . . he had looked so damn good. Where had he gone? Had he left? Was he still somewhere nearby? What was he doing?

Damn it! With a resigned sigh, Harry got up from his seat. He knew himself well enough by now to recognize a no-win situation. He would have no peace until he went and looked for him.

Funny how much he was learning about himself. He had discovered the hard way that he could not conquer this particular type of restlessness. His mind would obsess until he relented, just like it had about moving. It was a shortcoming that he was less than satisfied with. Nevertheless, it was a fact. And now it was happening with a random cowboy. He knew enough now that when his brain felt compelled to dwell on something, there was no stopping it.

Control. That is what he needed. This rash acting on a fancy could someday land him in hot water. And a fancy it surely was.

 _He fancied that cowboy._

 _Just look at your situation right now, Styles. You listened to this restless yearning of yours, and now you aren't exactly safe and secure, are you? And now you're going to just go and chase some mysterious stranger just because you want to?_

Crazy. Mad. Yet, he still put his body in motion, picking up his chair and folding it so he could carry it easily—off in search of that tempting, elusive cowboy. Even though there were easily hundreds of people present, it didn't take long for him to discover him. Surprisingly, Harry almost ran right into him.


	6. Chapter 6

Harry had blindly headed south, having no idea where the cowboy had gone, but intending to methodically look until he found him. He had an overwhelming desire to see him up close. He was now heading toward the restrooms, and a man-made lake just beyond where people were fishing. On a stroke of luck, he had walked less than one hundred feet when he saw the cowboy strolling toward him, coming back from the direction of the restrooms. So that's where he'd been.

His hips moved appealingly in that carefree cowboy saunter of his. He walked right past Harry, less than six feet away as Harry paused by a big oleander bush, not knowing what to do. The cowboy didn't even glance in his direction. Harry felt dumb as a rock, standing there by the bush, gawking at him, so he made a show of going to the restroom himself, just in case anyone happened to be watching.

When Harry got back to the main stage, there the he was, back in his seat. Indolently, the cowboy spread out as only a supremely confident man can, an ankle resting on his opposite knee. Even the way he sat made Harry's heart lurch, his stomach tighten. Apparently the object of Harry's attention was here alone; he had talked to no one since Harry had spotted him. He also wore no wedding band.

His idleness didn't last for long. Just as Harry was fantasizing about moving his chair closer to him, although _only_ fantasizing, since he'd never have the nerve to actually do it, the cowboy suddenly propelled himself from his seat and headed away, this time toward the east.

He couldn't keep chasing him everywhere he went, and it was becoming apparent the guy didn't stay put for long. Besides, he might get caught at it, and that would be the ultimate humiliation. But then again, hadn't he chastised himself a lot in the past few years for not taking chances? Letting opportunities (or possible ones) slip by simply because he was shy? He'd hated himself for it on occasion, too. Fear of losing track of the cowboy again was the motivation Harry needed.

He might as well go for broke, since everything else he was doing lately was on the edge of insanity. The thrill of the chase seized him, the sense of adventure, and not knowing the outcome made it all the more enticing.

By the time he had convinced himself to get up again, the cowboy's legs—even considering they weren't nearly as long as Harry's, had carried him quite a distance. Harry began walking rapidly, but he could not gain on him. The cowboy's jaunty gait covered some serious ground. He'd made a left turn and disappeared into a parking lot full of campers and motor homes for the people who were staying for the weekend. Harry plowed on with determination, mentally patting himself on the back for his rare show of courage.

By the time he made the left turn himself, the cowboy was nowhere to be seen. Walking through the huge parking lot, looking left and right, Harry was pondering on what could possibly be wrong with him. He'd never done anything remotely like this before—this bold, this plucky.

He walked almost all the way to the end of the lot, which was several hundred feet. Shaking his head and disgruntled with himself, he realized that even if he did find him, he didn't have the balls to even talk to him. So what the hell did he do? He just kept walking—refusing to give up, even though he knew he wouldn't dare approach the cowboy. Why was he even going to all this trouble? He kept asking himself that question. Truth: Because he was dying to feast his eyes on him again, that's why.

Harry had never come away with the prize, human or otherwise. Being shy, he'd always just stood by and watched others get what they wanted. Being gay didn't do him any favors either. He felt awkward and pushy with the mere idea of pursuing a man. And chances were, the guy wasn't even gay! Harry, however, had a pretty good gay-dar going on, and something told him it might be worth a shot just to find out.

Assuming the cowboy must have gone into one of the motor homes, Harry continued a little farther out of pure curiosity. A quarter mile further, he came upon an arena, and inside people were riding horses, competing in shooting at flags on poles.

Aha! Being a cowboy, there was a good chance this is where his target had gone. Harry approached the small set of bleachers where people sat and watched the competition, but he couldn't see the people who were observing the action very well because of the angle of the bleachers. And Harry was afraid to outright look for him, because he cringed at the thought of making eye contact. God, he wished he wasn't so damn shy! So he set his chair down next to the bleachers. So much for his courage he'd thought he was gaining.

The entire time Harry watched the competition, he still did not know if the cowboy was present. At any rate, he enjoyed the entertainment until it got too hot with the sun beating down on him, and he decided to leave. There was no shade anywhere, so half an hour later, he headed back.

He was stunned to find the cowboy sitting in his chair in the shade in front of the band once again, this time talking to a couple of guys and women, looking as if he'd never left. All that walking for nothing! These must be the people the guy had been waiting for when he'd been pacing earlier.

Harry sat there in his own chair for several hours, unaware of anything else going on around him but the cowboy. He just could not bring himself to move his chair closer, although he had a perfect opportunity. The chairs were arranged in rows, and there was a six foot wide empty space right next to the cowboy. Harry could have slipped his chair right in there with no problem. With people wandering around and constantly moving their chairs to different locations, no one would even notice. He knew if he waited too long, the opportunity would pass. That was just the way things worked in life. But somehow he just could not summon the guts to do it.

It had been three hours of torment, and Harry at last told himself this scenario was utterly outrageous. It was now or never. He had to literally thrust himself out of his chair, knowing that was the only way he'd get his body to move.

Casually lifting his chair, he acted as if he were scouting for an ideal spot to sit. Pretending to spy the empty space, he parked his chair about three and a half feet to the cowboy's right. Close enough to be noticed, but not too close so as to look suspicious.

Heart thudding heavily, an odd trembling and quivering deep in his middle, Harry kept his eyes pointed straight ahead, glued to the band as if totally involved in the music. He dared not even slice a sideways glance at the cowboy, for fear he would see, and know, somehow, that Harry was gay.

Never in Harry's life had he deliberately tried to manipulate a situation like this to get a man, or anyone, to notice him. It was always the _wrong_ ones, never the right ones that paid him much mind.

When the end of the song faded out, the cowboy whistled and clapped. Otherwise, he remained quite mellow compared to his earlier restless behavior, and appeared to not be aware of Harry's presence.

Harry was aware he could have a girlfriend, or not be gay (please don't let that be the case!) hence his indifference. Being highly observant as he watched through his side vision, Harry saw that the cowboy did not engage in staring at women and undressing them with his eyes like many of the men present. That was one positive sign, anyway.

Not wanting to intrude, and not having the courage to talk to him anyway, Harry stoically sat it out. He could see the cowboy's ankle still resting on his opposite knee, one hand grasping his belt loosely. So attractive, just sitting there, enjoying the day, having no idea he was being checked out.

Every time the cowboy got up to get a beverage or go to the restroom, it seemed he was gone forever, and Harry wondered each time if he'd left. Yet he kept returning, and Harry felt unbelievably childish for being afraid to go to the restroom himself because he was afraid the guy would be gone when he got back.

Before he knew it, more time had spilled like sand right through his fingers. Why was it time dragged when one was bored, but flew when you were full of anticipation? It was already four o'clock, and Harry hadn't even inquired of anyone about the location of ranches in Pecos. He had not meant to spend so many countless hours here and get absolutely no information.

Angry with himself for wasting the whole day, and not even exchanging a single word with the cowboy on top of it, he decided to leave, get dinner, then get to bed early so he could get up bright and early tomorrow to try to make up for some of the lost time.

Shortly before he was resigning himself to leave, the cowboy happened to drop his soft drink, and it spilled into the grass below his seat. Harry automatically looked in his direction when he heard the cup drop. The cowboy looked sideways at him as he leaned over to retrieve the empty cup. Harry had a terrible urge to laugh. Maybe it was the fact that the guy had spilled his drink, or maybe it was pure anxiety.

At last, their eyes met. Startled, Harry tamped down a gasp before it left his lips. The cowboy was not bad looking at all—handsome, in fact. But what had nearly made Harry gasp out loud were his eyes. They were so unusual as to be unique. He had no sunglasses on, and under the rim of his grey Stetson were the clearest, brightest, most intensely blue eyes Harry believed he had ever seen. A tiny ring of seafoam green ringed the pupil, but the rest was totally uniform, somewhere between sky blue and turquoise, pure and arresting.

 _Oh my God,_ thought Harry.

The cowboy nodded briefly, then turned away again to speak to the guy sitting next to him. Well, at least the guy he spoke to was with a woman. Little consolation that was. Harry had had the perfect chance to say something, and he'd blown it.

 _After all these hours of waiting, you finally get a chance and you screw it up._

Harry rose from his chair, casting a final glance his way, but the cowboy was involved in conversation.

It wasn't until Harry had nearly reached the Rover in the parking lot hundreds of yards away that it dawned on him he'd had a perfect excuse to talk to the cowboy all along. It would have been so easy to have casually leaned over and asked him if he could tell him about the area's ranches, briefly informing him of his search for employment. And he, being a cowboy, would have been the obvious one to ask. A no-brainer.

And he did, honestly need the information, so he wouldn't have been awkwardly struggling to think of something to say. As Harry pictured the scene in his mind, he saw himself smiling charmingly, the two of them falling naturally and eagerly into an animated conversation, then eventually the cowboy offering to show him around to different ranches, help Harry in his search for a job. That part wasn't a requirement, as Harry would never impose on anyone, but if the cowboy had _insisted,_ well . . . Harry certainly wouldn't have turned him down.

If nothing else, just making a friend would have been nice. But in Harry's fantasies, the cowboy would be gay, and romantically interested in him _. Dream on, Styles._

Now he _really_ wanted to kick himself. How easy it would have been, and he'd thrown the chance away.

The memory of the cowboy's tan face, jaw roughened by slight beard bristle, and those eyes . . . electrified Harry and sent forbidden tingles cascading along his spine. And he had a feeling it wouldn't go away anytime soon.

The cure, of course, was chocolate. It always was. After dinner, reclining on the bed in the motel room, Harry polished off two candy bars in record time. This time though, the sweetness had no calming effect.

The image of the cowboy remained etched vividly in Harry's consciousness. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw him. He didn't need this right now, when he had so much else on his mind. He was only complicating things while he made himself miserable. He could not afford to waste time or energy—even brain energy, on what might have been.

 _Priorities, priorities._

Harry hardly slept that night. His high spirited expectations kept his nervous system wired. He constantly checked the time, and the night seemed to never end. He rehearsed what he would say to ranch owners over and over in his mind, wishing he had the key to the imaginary lock that would win him a job.

When he started the Rover early the next morning, it made a funny squeaking sound for a few seconds. Panic set in immediately. The worst possible scenario came to mind unbidden. What if the engine was giving out? He didn't have enough money to spare to buy another car.

Forcing himself to calm down, Harry told himself it was probably something very minor. When the squeaking stopped, he couldn't decide if he should continue on and see if it happened again, or take it to a mechanic. The last thing he wanted to do was to get stranded.

Harry wished he'd listened when his father had tried to show him how to diagnose and fix car troubles. He just hadn't been interested. Harry didn't even know anyone to ask to recommend an honest mechanic. After some brief deliberation, he decided to leave it to chance and just drive. Dwelling on it would only worsen the fear of a breakdown, until he succeeded in creating mental paralysis.

The waitress at the restaurant last night had given him some tips on where to find the several ranches in the area. It seemed most of them were located off a few dirt roads leading to the outskirts of Pecos. Harry had her detailed directions filed in his head as he headed out one of the dirt roads, nervousness making his hands perspire and slide around on the steering wheel.

It seemed he'd been driving on the dirt road for hours, loose red dust that was so common in Texas swirling around his head, making him cough. He had no choice but to have the window rolled down, still not wanting to run the air, and possibly aggravate whatever problem that had caused the squeaking noise. Grateful it wasn't a hundred degrees though, he counted his blessings.

When the first ranch at last appeared on his right, Harry turned in and passed under the archway reading Buckshot Ranch. There was not much to see until he rounded a curve a quarter mile later. The ranch house lay before him, surrounded by corrals, a barn and what looked to be various chicken coops. His first impression, nor the second, for that matter, peaked his interest.

The place was clearly run down, lack of tender loving care evident everywhere he looked. Perhaps it was just a lack of good help, he mused. That might well work in his favor.

Cattle could be seen farther out; a dozen or so horses milled about in a large paddock. Harry assumed these were the ranch hand's horses, the remuda. On closer inspection, he spied a handful of cowboys sprinkled around, sprawled on a bench, hammock, or wherever they found a resting place.

A few more sat atop a corral fence, smoking and bantering amongst themselves. When Harry parked and got out of his vehicle, they all stopped talking as one to stare at him. It reminded Harry of when he had entered the bar in New Mexico. Uneasily, he straightened his button up black shirt, self-consciously also smoothing his jeans, and approached them. He felt conspicuously overdressed, but he was, after all, looking for a job.

As Harry approached the cowboys, he had to give them credit—they tried not to stare at his long hair. He knew he looked about as unlike a cowboy as was possible. They were trying to be discreet, but Harry was acutely, painfully aware of their roving eyes under their Stetsons. Despite their efforts to remain undetected, their stares assaulted him. It was clear they didn't often get long haired male visitors.

Harry walked up to one of them and asked if the owner was home.

""Yeah, I 'spect he's in the house eatin' breakfast," the cowboy drawled.

"Oh, I don't want to disturb him when he's eatin.' Do you know if he's doin' any hirin' right now?"

All the ranch hands' ears perked up when they heard Harry's accent.

Harry felt a myriad of emotions, including foolish and naïve, but mainly inadequacy, being assessed by these rough ranch hands.

The cowboy carefully disguised a smirk, absently staring at Harry's hair. Catching himself, and jerking his eyes back to meet Harry's, he lit a cigarette with the same slow, calculated languor that Harry had already seen so much of in Texas.

The cowboy then squinted into the sun, gazing leisurely at the horizon as he measured the sincerity he'd heard in Harry's voice. He felt sorry for him, in a vague way. Where had he come from, this kid? He had a British accent, and seemed to exude a lost image, an impression of a certain loneliness.

"Ole Duane ain't hirin' nobody. It's all he can do to pay us." With a sweeping hand, the ranch hand gestured to the others.

"This ain't a big operation, compared to most. Duane don't even have a housekeeper, and the cook's been with him for twenty years. Most of us have been here for ten years or more. There ain't really any turnover. Loyalty and all that, cuz it sure ain't the pay keepin' us here. Hate to say it, but if you talk to Duane, he'll jes tell ya the same thang."

He peered with narrowed eyes at Harry through the smoke from the cigarette that dangled between his lips.

Harry didn't doubt he spoke the truth. The way the place looked, it was evident the owner could not afford to hire extra help of any kind. And today, Sunday, Harry suspected was the only day these cowboys had to themselves. They were likely kept busy six days a week, doing ranch chores. Even the horses in the corral looked tired and well-used, as if they were not accustomed to the luxury of even a couple of days off. They stood listlessly, dozing, their heads low. They were not starving by any means, but there wasn't a fat one among them.

Deciding to take the cowboy at his word, Harry knew it would be just a waste of time to bother talking to the owner. He thanked the cowboy, and left.

Trying not to feel dejected—after all, this was only the first ranch he had tried, Harry edged the Rover back onto the dirt road and followed it to the next intersecting dirt road where he would eventually come upon the Roadrunner Ranch, approximately ten miles north.

The Roadrunner Ranch was not much different from the first one. It was larger, and appeared to have a lot more cattle, but Harry was again strongly discouraged by the ranch hands there as far as the possibility of getting a job any time soon. They were so negative that the familiar prickle of fear began to return to him with a vengeance. Would it be like this every place he went?

Regardless, this time he insisted on seeing the owner. Sitting across from the man in his dusty living room amongst furniture that had seen better days, and probably not a coat of polish in decades, Harry struggled not to let despair overtake him. The house was thoroughly depressing and a strange icy cold sensation crept through his veins, even though it was pleasantly warm outdoors.

This was just a house, not a home. Just a shelter. It was well built, indicating in many ways that it was old, which wasn't a bad thing, but the evidence of a housekeeper was lacking here. It smelled dusty, used, like the ranch itself. And if melancholy had an odor, Harry imagined he also smelled the odor of former, brighter days. Unwelcome dread began to hound at him.

He was getting nowhere fast.

"I'm from San Diego—well, England originally, and I decided to move to Texas. It may have been a rash decision, but I'm dependable and responsible. I can ride, and although I have no ranch experience, I'm a good learner. I'd be a good employee. I have an excellent reference from me former boss, and I worked there for three years, hardly missin' a day. I have lots of experience carin' for and doctorin' animals, even though I worked with only small animals at the veterinary clinic."

Harry didn't know why he was rattling all this off to the man, since he'd already been told he was not hiring. Desperation was speaking out now. Harry found his nervousness was markedly decreased though, knowing the possibility of the man hiring him was practically nil. No need to impress.

The waiting came next. Joe Carlson, the rancher, spread his arms out along the back of the couch he was sitting on, across from Harry, who sat in an armchair, and the man exhaled with a deep, weary sigh. His very demeanor seemed to tell Harry his life story. He looked to be in his mid-sixties, and his clothes were slightly rumpled. He looked the worse for wear, tired. The skin on his neck was tan and deeply crinkled from many years of relentless sun, lines everywhere on his face indicating the thousands of times he'd narrowed his eyes and peered into the sun or at a sick cow, wondering if he could fix it or if he'd have to call the vet out. Worry lines from lack of finances, work yet to be done. Harry had no doubt the man had no wife. There was an indefinable sadness that clung to him.

"I've been ranchin' all my life, and took this place over when my pa died twenty some years ago. At first, we did pretty decent. But these modern days . . . well, cattle don't bring the profit they used to. They bring a fair amount, mind you, but with the increasin' price of everythin' else, feed included when there ain't enough grass, it's hard to keep yer head above water. I shoulda gotten into horses a long time ago, I suppose. That's where the money is nowadays. Now I'm too old to start over. The beeves are a good backup, but raisin' good horses is the thang. The ranches that breed 'em do a lot better'n me. I sure would like to give a nice young man like you a job, seein' as yer needin' one purdy bad, but there'd be nothin' to pay you with."

Harry sighed. He hadn't really expected anything else.

"I appreciate you takin' the time to talk to me, Mr. Carlson. I know you'd rather be doin' sommat else. But before I go, can you possibly tell me where else I can look? Somewhere I might have a ghost of a chance? I really want to settle in the Pecos area, yeah? I love it here, but if I can't, like, find a job, I'll have to head north, and I wish I didn't have to."

Mr. Carlson smiled wistfully.

"Yep, young man. Harry, is it? I don't blame ya at all fer likin' Pecos. Jus' about everyone who lives here ain't sorry. The weather up north can get pretty harsh too."

He began to stroke his beard stubble, and Harry knew this probably meant he was deep in thought. It seemed a lot of Texans had the same body language. After at least two minutes of introspecting, Mr. Carlson's deep brown eyes studied Harry so intently, Harry nearly fidgeted right out of his seat on the dusty chair. The old man was pondering something at length, apparently. Maybe that was a good sign. Harry nearly held his breath, wondering if the man was actually trying to figure out a way to help him.

"There's a rancher by the name of Louis Tomlinson down the road a piece. He's young—inherited his ranch the same way I did when his pa died a few years ago. He's got a decent spread of twenty thousand acres, I believe. Got some mighty nice cattle, and he raises fine horses too. He's one of the wealthier ranchers around these parts. Not wealthy as in _millionaire_ , but still . . . Some of its old money, but most of it he earns himself. Gotta hand it to him. He ain't just a well-off bum; he's got ambition and brains to go with it. Works right along with his ranch hands. He's figgered out how to keep increasin' his dough. He's a bit tight, but that's partly how he got where he is. He's fair to his employees, although he does expect a lot from 'em. He's got a good reputation, and he's good and honest.

"His place is well run, and he's got good hands, an excellent foreman. You could mosey on over there, but I ain't makin' no promises. Likely he won't hire ya, but since you're already in the area, ya might as well try. Louis always hires temporary extra hands for the spring roundup, and that's comin' up soon. He's about the only one within at least a hundred miles or so that you'd have a chance in hell to get a job with, since he's the only one nearby with extra cash to burn. Ya jus' never know— if he doesn't need another hand at the moment, he might even think about takin' you on as a horse groomer or some fancy job like that that most ranchers around here can't afford to hire."

Harry was busy trying to mentally file and assimilate the information Mr. Carlson had thrown at him about Louis Tomlinson. He supposed the more info he had, the better prepared he would be when he faced Mr. Tomlinson in person. Now he was exceedingly glad he'd taken the time to talk to Mr. Carlson. He felt the man was really trying his best to give him a starting point, help him pave his way.

"What is the name of Mr. Tomlinson's ranch?"

"The Rockin' Horse."

Harry rose from his seat, gingerly avoiding stepping on one of the many cats that roamed the house. It wouldn't do to injure it, after the help Mr. Carlson had so graciously given him.

"I'll be on me way then. I'm sorry for botherin' you. You don't know how much I appreciate your input. I'll go directly to the Rockin' Horse ranch now. Can you tell me where it is?"

"It's only a New York minute away. Actually, about five miles. Keep on Cholla Road, that's the road you came in on, make a right at Sumner, then keep goin' until you see all the greenery on the left. Ya cain't miss it, it's a damn oasis. The archway will be a mile further."

Excited and jittery, Harry began his trek to the Rocking Horse Ranch, He'd have to be a good convincer of his value. He'd have to pour it on, give it everything he had because it sounded like this would be his last chance to stay in Pecos.


	7. Chapter 7

Excitement and jitters blended, Harry stepped on the gas. One good thing about these Texans—they gave excellent directions. Mr. Carlson had not been exaggerating when he had called the place an oasis. That was exactly what it was. He was also correct when he'd said there was no way you could miss it.

White washed split rail fences adorned the left side of the road, green grass was abundant in the enormous pastures, where sleek, glossy coated quarter horses grazed. This place definitely had underground irrigation, and plenty of it.

Trees grew everywhere. The quality of the horses was obvious even to Harry's mostly untutored eye. There were also cattle visible much further out, in distant pastures. Some black, some brown and white with white faces. Harry could see at least several hundred, many with calves at their sides. The ranch itself held little resemblance to the dry, harsh land surrounding it. His eyes drank in the virtual paradise.

As Harry continued to drive, buildings came into view. The main house was a low, sprawling Spanish hacienda of the type commonly seen in Texas. It was, however, exceptionally large compared to most. There were corrals of many different sizes, round pens, paddocks, a few barns, as well as acres upon acres of pasture.

An exceptionally huge barn stood to the north and what had to be the bunkhouse sat beneath the shade of several huge mulberry trees, a hundred yards from the main house. The contrast between this ranch and the ones Harry had just seen was startling.

The obvious care and back breaking work that had gone into the building of this place originally, not to mention the upkeep would be no small feat, even for several strong men. Harry was impressed, to say the very least. He did notice though, that although not obvious, the paint was beginning to peel here and there. He could understand how that would not be a first on the priority list of a ranch this size. The animals were the essence, the livelihood of the ranch. They needed to come first. Maybe they'd hire him to paint. . . and who knew, if he won them over, if they might keep him on and give him a chance as a ranch hand? He'd have to be as charming and amiable as he could, along with somehow proving to them he was a hard worker. If they'd only give him a chance . . .

Fighting to remain positive despite the grim, sobering thought that this would probably be his last chance to stay in Pecos, Harry maneuvered the Rover into a carport of sorts, where several other vehicles were parked. It even had a cement floor, he noticed with interest. He assumed the hired hands parked here. There were also several flatbed trucks that would obviously be used for hauling hay, feed and equipment.

Just as he parked, the Rover began to make its plaintive squealing noise again. Harry steadfastly ignored it. For right now, his talk with Mr. Tomlinson must take precedence over anything else. He'd worry about the Rover later.

Even under immense pressure, it was imperative that he appear cool and collected, mature and confident. It could make all the difference. He knew the owner probably would not respond favorably if he sensed Harry's desperation. But, at the same time, he must somehow impress on the rancher how very much he wanted to work for him. What a delicate balance to maintain!

Not even sure if he could manage it, Harry walked with a purposely firm stride to the front door of the ranch house.

No one answered the door. He knocked and rang the bell for a couple of minutes, then disappointed beyond even his own belief, Harry headed back for the Rover, intending to return tomorrow morning.

From the corner of his eye, he saw a figure walking toward him from the direction of the bunkhouse. He turned his head to see if the person was, in fact, approaching him directly. It appeared so, so Harry stopped and waited, not sure if he should advance toward the person. This guy could be the owner, but he doubted it. He had the dusty look of a ranch hand about him.

"Good day. Can I help you with somethin'? My name's Johnny. Johnny Acton."

"Hi—nice to meet you," Harry extended his hand. "I'm Harry Styles."

The ranch hand might have been in his early to mid- forties, and had dark blond hair with a bit of greying at the temples under his Stetson. His eyes were hazel, and his expression and manner were very welcoming, his handshake firm and confident.

Harry got straight to the point. "I'm new to Texas, and lookin' for employment. I have experience with horses and other animals, am a good rider, and I believe I could handle anything that needs doin.'" He sounded hollow even to himself; what must he sound like to Johnny?

He went on before Johnny could cut him off. "I'm willin' to do just about anythin.' Paintin,' errands, or I could even learn to be a ranch hand. Is Mr. Louis Tomlinson around?"

It wouldn't hurt to make a favorable impression on this guy—he might very well have some clout as far as hiring went. You never knew.

"No, not at the moment. He's out on the ranch somewheres, roundin' up a mustang. Not sure when he'll be back, but shouldn't be too long. I'm the foreman, by the way," and Johnny smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. Harry liked him on the spot. He had that rare old fashioned quality of down to earth good manners, and was a perfect example of what he'd imagined a Texas cowboy would be like.

Harry was just about to initiate some small talk when he heard loud laughter coming from the hands relaxing under a nearby tree. Harry hadn't even noticed them until now.

They had all magically come to life as they peered out at a pasture. A cowboy was riding in on a horse that was clearly agitated. It was making small leaps, throwing its head and fighting the bit. Looking closer, Harry saw that the cowboy was leading another horse from the one he was riding. And the one he was leading was even more unhappy than the one doing the leading.

Both animals looked as if they were just barely under control, capable of exploding at any second. Even so, the cowboy sat his horse easily, naturally, moving with the animal. The cowboy kept a firm grip on the reins, trying to maneuver his skittish mount out of the path of the plunging, wild-eyed animal that he held via a halter and lead rope, easing them carefully through the open pasture gate and on toward the direction of the bunkhouse.

Apparently, the ranch hands expected entertainment, and it looked as if this cowboy was going to provide it, willing or not. Harry concluded this must be the ranch owner, Louis Tomlinson, bringing in the mustang he'd rounded up.

As Harry watched on in growing horror, the mustang being led reared suddenly, his flailing hooves reaching high into space, and narrowly missing the ranch owner's head. Fluently nudging his mount with his spur, the rider moved his horse over, side passing his mount just in time to avoid the mustang literally jumping into his lap. But the horse he was riding wanted no part of this nonsense, and began to rebel even more vigorously, attempting to rear also.

As if Mr. Tomlinson didn't already have his hands full trying to coax the mustang to follow along, he had to hold his own mount back at the same time. He had to attempt to concentrate on both intractable animals at once. Harry felt a pang of sympathy for him. Things didn't look like they were going to end well.

His mount, reaching the end of his tolerance, now began to buck. This spooked the mustang further, who began to frantically try to circle around behind the other horse.

"Watch out, Louis!" yelled Johnny. But there was nothing anyone could do to help at this point. The mustang quickly ended up on the other side of the rider and his horse, managing, on his way, to wedge the lead rope up under the ranch owner's mount's tail. That was all it took.

The rancher's mount blew up, and with his tail clamped tightly between his legs, eyes rolling, he lurched sharply to the left, then bolted forward violently, so quickly it seemed to be a single motion. He then exploded into a full gallop in one stride. Even Mr. Tomlinson's excellent seat was thrown off. Not even the best rider could have stayed with the panicked horse's frenzied movements.

Inevitably, the rider and horse parted ways. With a loud thump that made Harry wince, the rancher hit the dirt. His loose horse took a sharp turn to the right to avoid running over Harry and Johnny, who backed up at warp speed, the horse narrowly missing them.

The rancher was still for a few seconds, then swore softly when he got his breath back, clearly mad as a hornet at himself. If he weren't so angry, and Harry imagined, terribly embarrassed, Harry was certain the ranch hands would have burst into hoots of laughter. But he being their boss was a definite incentive for them to keep their hysterics to themselves. Harry could see their considerable efforts to remain serious by the severely controlled expressions on their faces. They dared not even look at each other.

So this was Louis Tomlinson, the Rocking Horse Ranch owner.

Despite the unfortunate circumstances, Harry could not help but admire the guy. Throughout the entire incident, not once had the man lost his cool or abused the animals, and his horsemanship surpassed anything Harry had ever seen before. He had handled those horses with a finesse rarely seen even amongst professionals, and certainly better than anyone could expect considering the conditions. Every move had been calculated, even graceful. Until he'd left the saddle, that is.

Harry felt another stab of empathy (and maybe a touch of pity) for him. It was bad enough to have this happen in front of his employees, but to have a stranger also present to witness his mortification . . . Harry felt his embarrassment as strongly as if it were his own.

As the rancher slowly picked himself up out of the dust, the other men automatically spread out; one to catch his horse, the others to help snub the still plunging young mustang. Amazingly, Louis Tomlinson still held the lead rope in his hand. Johnny pried it away from his bosses' grip, and with the help of the other hands, managed to coerce the recalcitrant mustang to a snubbing post in the middle of a nearby corral.

Even shamed as he must have been, Louis Tomlinson stepped up to Johnny after the mustang had been secured and graciously, although it was clear he was testy, thanked him for his help. Then he looked directly at Harry. That was when Harry nearly collapsed on the spot.

Those one-of-a-kind blue eyes that were somewhere between sky blue and turquoise pierced right into him, and Harry knew in an instant that he was the cowboy he'd seen at the Huck Finn Jubilee.

Louis removed his hat and slapped it against his thigh to remove some of the dust, revealing a full head of caramel colored hair that shimmered in the sun. Harry wasn't sure if Louis remembered him or not. After all, the rancher had only looked at Harry for a split second when he'd spilled his drink, but a muscle twitched in Louis' cheek, and Harry wondered if it was recognition. But even if it was, Louis did not defer to it.

The rancher was even more handsome than he'd appeared at the Jubilee, even with the gold scruff on his face. Well, maybe the scruff even _enhanced_ his looks—Harry wasn't sure. Louis was also young, as Mr. Carlson had mentioned, and Harry realized he probably was very close to Harry's own age. Harry gulped and tried to keep from panting after discovering he'd been holding his breath for quite some time.

"Um, Louis, this is Harry Styles. He stopped by to speak to you about a job," explained Johnny. Louis Tomlinson's gaze was unsettling, to say the least. He was one of those people who had the disquieting habit of looking long and hard into someone's eyes, as if he could see their thoughts, and aiming to extract them.

Harry shifted uncomfortably, not wanting to break the eye contact for fear he would be considered a coward or worse, a wuss. Squirming inside, Harry stared back.

 _Don't look away. Don't look away._

He was about to initiate a handshake that he wasn't at all sure Louis would accept when Johnny broke the silence.

"Louis, you gotta stop takin' them green horses out to do a broke horse's job. You woulda handled that mustang fine if that colt you were ridin' hadn't freaked out on ya."

"They gotta get experience somehow," was Louis' flip, offhand reply. So that was it. Louis was in the habit of taking chances and living dangerously. Either that, or he was supremely confident in his abilities. Probably both, thought Harry.

Harry should have realized the horse Louis had been riding was just a youngster. A well broke horse wouldn't have been quite so terrorized by an unruly companion. But still, Harry grudgingly had to admire this man's guts. Not such a smart decision on the rancher's part, but it showed he had a lot of spunk. Here he was, the ranch owner, doing a difficult job he could have easily pawned off on one of his hands. That alone gained Harry's respect.

But the thing that grabbed Harry's ear immediately was Louis' accent. British! And sounded like Yorkshire, going by the few words the man had spoken so far. Maybe this would give Harry an advantage.

Harry reflected on how he shouldn't really be that surprised that he had met up with the cowboy again. It really wasn't that much of a coincidence. After all, his presence at the Jubilee indicated he probably lived in Pecos, and being a cowboy, finding him on a ranch was perfectly understandable.

"You're wastin' your time, ya know," Louis directed at Harry. "I'm not hirin' right now."

His voice was unique a little scratchy in a very alluring way, and Harry was finding himself more attracted by the second. It made him weak, wobbly. He wondered if he should smile at him now, since he'd been told his dimples were charming. He needed all the help he could get. But that might give the rancher the wrong idea, so he cast that thought away.

In the end, Harry decided to take the risk and smile, in an open, friendly way, being careful not to let the other man see his attraction. That would surely land him in the dirt, because a man like Louis Tomlinson was likely to aim one good punch, and that would be the end of Harry's opportunity to worm his way into a job.

Harry felt terribly self-conscious, and stiff as a robot, and the resulting smile felt painted on. Fake—not the least bit genuine.

Louis didn't fall for it. Not surprising, since Harry had a hunch the rancher didn't miss much. He was very perceptive, his eyes sharp, his manner diligent. A man like him could probably smell desperation a mile away.

"Are you sure? I'm good with horses, know how to ride, and I'm a fast learner," Harry spit out his spiel quickly, because it looked like Mr. Tomlinson was quickly running out of patience.

Louis paused, and Harry realized he was listening to his accent.

"Cheshire?" asked Louis.

Harry smiled, and this time it was kosher. "Yes sir."

"What brings you to Texas?"

"I want to live and work here. Especially in Pecos. I've lived in the U.S. for a few years."

His curiosity satisfied, a cloud rolled over Louis' face again, his expression going right back to surly. So what if they were both British? Didn't mean a thing, and it certainly wouldn't give this kid an edge. Now it was time to get rid of this baby-faced clown who didn't look as if he could even pick up a fifty pound sack of feed.

"No ranch experience, yeah?" asked Louis, his smirk mocking Harry.

"No, but like I said, I learn fast, and I'm a hard worker."

Johnny and Louis stared at him blankly. _Great, now they thought he was stupid._ Applying for work on a ranch with no experience except for the fact that he could ride.

Louis shrugged, uttered a sort of snort that could have been disgust, turned on his heel, rudely dismissing Harry and headed for the main house.

Johnny's face colored in embarrassment in the awkward silence, and he stabbed a toe of his boot into the loose dirt at his feet.

"Never mind Louis," he said. "He's a little grouchy at times. Temperamental. I hope you'll excuse him."

"I understand he must be wantin' to be rid of me, but I want to settle in Pecos. I love it here. I need a job in the worst way. I just up and left California to come to Texas, live in the country. I want to work on a ranch," Harry tried again, and he didn't like the pleading tone in his own voice.

He had no idea why he was blurting all this out to Johnny, who was just the foreman, after all. He'd already said it all anyway. It didn't even matter if Johnny would give Harry a job if he could. The fact was, he couldn't. And he wasn't exactly making himself sound stable, admitting how he'd left California to wander around looking for a ranch job in Texas.

But Johnny had kind eyes; there was a quiet, solid serenity about him that encouraged Harry to confide in him, even though he'd known him less than half an hour. Somehow, Harry had an inkling he might put in a good word for him to Louis after Harry had left.

"I'd really love to work here. I stopped at two other ranches this mornin,' and this place is really nice." He didn't know what else to say without criticizing the other ranches. That wouldn't do.

"Don't blame ya. I love it too. Been workin' here for twelve years. Why don't ya try comin' back sometime soon? Might catch Louis in a better mood," said Johnny, a conspiratorial grin on his face. "Then again, he'd probably kill me if he knew I said that to you."

This was totally unexpected, and Harry felt like hugging the older cowboy. He'd never mention Johnny's words to Mr. Tomlinson—he wouldn't want to get Johnny into trouble. If he'd had to deal solely with Louis Tomlinson, he might have never come back, even as much as he wanted to. That abrasive man would burst _anyone'_ s bubble. He had taken the wind right out of Harry's sails.

But Johnny's words afforded Harry a tiny ray of hope. He didn't think Johnny would tell him to come back again if he didn't think there was a chance Louis wouldn't throw him out on his ass. Probably a slim to none chance he'd actually get a job, but Harry had already decided it was worth the gamble. Harry didn't doubt Louis would not be happy to see him, but Harry could be persistent, and maybe, just _maybe,_ he'd be able to wear Louis down.

The Rover squealed its protest as Harry drove back to the motel where he'd been staying. What could be wrong with it? It still ran fine, but that might not last long. He raised the hood in the motel parking lot, but didn't know what to look for. None of the hoses and belts were broken or appeared to have holes. He really should have it checked. He was being a fool to continue driving it this way. But he also wanted to be sure he had a forthcoming paycheck before spending any more money.

Harry had already decided he'd be back at the Rocking Horse Ranch bright and early tomorrow morning. He was going to make a pest of himself if need be. A shudder ran through him when he imagined how spitting mad Louis Tomlinson would be to see him.


	8. Chapter 8

If only Louis Tomlinson would give Harry half a chance to prove himself . . . he wouldn't be sorry.

It was still early, and since there was no driving to do anymore, Harry wondered what he would do with himself for the rest of the day. So the first thing he did was to pick up some Wranglers. Made sure they fit snugly and attractively, although he wasn't quite sure why. Probably because he'd always been a perfectionist about his clothes. Even if it was just a white t-shirt and jeans, it had to look classy.

Deciding to save money on eating out, he stopped at a grocery store and bought a loaf of bread, some ham and cheese, a pint of frozen yogurt, orange juice and chocolate milk. He took the food back to his room and made himself a sandwich, putting the other groceries into the refrigerator. He'd enjoy the chocolate milk and yogurt later tonight.

It was nearly impossible not to think in detail of how he would approach Mr. Tomlinson tomorrow. Would the man be as glum and miserable as he'd been today? Or might he be more receptive? Harry doubted he'd get that lucky. The biggest question was, would Mr. Tomlinson even talk to him? If the way he'd turned his back and walked away from Harry today was any indication . . . he'd cut him off again—Harry just knew it.

With a firm shake of his head, Harry resolved not to think of it any longer. He turned on the television, but saw and heard nothing. Visions of that mean, cantankerous, and exasperatingly handsome Mr. Tomlinson would not leave him alone.

Harry ate another sandwich for dinner, but was already so nervous about tomorrow that he couldn't even touch his chocolate milk or yogurt. Oh well. He'd have it tomorrow, after getting his brand new job.

 _Yeah, right._

The pressure would be off and he'd be able to relax again. At least that's what he kept telling himself. It was all that gave him the motivation to follow through. That, and staying alive.

By six the next morning, Harry was already showered, dressed and ready to go. By seven, he'd changed his clothes five times. After making a final trip to the Rover to search for different clothes, he would not allow himself to change again. He was wearing his new Wranglers and a grey chambray shirt that looked kind of Western-y. His boots were not St. Laurent, as he would have preferred, but he couldn't afford them. He wore simple ones that he'd had for a few years, and weren't cowboy boots, but would have to do.

As Harry drove up to the ranch shortly after seven, the Rover was still shrieking. It was becoming so loud that he feared the ranch hands would notice it. As he stepped out of his vehicle, he saw a couple of the ranch hands already working far out in the distant pastures, checking fences. They started really early around here, evidently.

Harry heard hoof beats, and looked up to see Johnny pull up at the bunkhouse on an attractive bay blanket Appaloosa.

"Harry …"

Pleased Johnny had remembered his name, Harry smiled brightly. Johnny dismounted, tying the horse to the hitching rail in front of the bunkhouse. Harry eagerly strode out to meet him.

"Hi Johnny," he said simply, putting on his best cheerful act. Because, inside, he was anything but cheerful. Desperate and disheartened was more like it.

"Didn't expect to see you back quite _this_ quick," Johnny smiled, and his eyes crinkled. Boy, was it nice to see someone smile. He knew for sure he wouldn't be seeing one on Louis Tomlinson's face.

"I'm as eager as a person can be for a job," answered Harry.

"Louis' a bit of a wolverine at times, and I'm sorry to say he's not much better today than yesterday. But he has a heart of gold. Jus' remember that. And don't you _dare_ tell him I said that," Johnny said slyly.

 _A heart of gold?_ Johnny had to be kidding.

Johnny was gathering up tools to put a new shoe on his horse. He'd thrown a shoe, and that was what had brought him back to the bunkhouse.

"What're ya gonna do now?" Johnny asked, his voice muffled through a mouth full of nails he would be using to nail another shoe on.

"I really don't know. Thought I'd try Mr. Tomlinson again today. But since you said he's testy, and busy out there workin,' I should probably come back another day. No one within a hundred miles is hiring. That's what Mr. Carlson at the Roadrunner told me."

"He's pretty much on target. Not many can afford to hire good help. And bad help is worse than worthless even if you didn't pay 'em. Louis is the only one around with the capital to hire anyone."

And _that_ was why Harry was tormenting himself by coming back . . . hanging onto that far-fetched dream, and probably only to be humiliated again.

Harry took notice of Johnny's horse. It was clear Johnny had good taste when it came to equines.

"He sure is a huge fellow. Nice lookin' too." Harry reached out the stroke the Appaloosa's neck. But the horse stiffened against his touch and turned his head away.

"Yeah, he's sixteen and a half hands. But he don't have much use for people. He puts up with me, but anyone else has a tough time ridin' him, or even handlin' him. He was whipped around, abused by a former owner. I bought him cuz I liked his looks, plus I felt sorry for him. I paid way more than I shoulda. He's never completely warmed up to me, and it's been six years. But he's a good workin' horse and he'll give you his all, as long as ya don't push him, or make him feel undignified. If ya do, he'll dump ya. And even as big as he is, he's quick as a cat."

Harry smiled. People loved talking about their animals. Apparently, cowboys were no different.

"What's his name?"

"Cactus." Johnny smiled at Harry's surprised look. "On account of his prickly disposition."

Harry laughed out loud. "Very appropriate!"

Johnny would be finished shoeing Cactus before long, and Harry knew he would have to leave. The cowboy would ride back to the pasture again, and Harry would be no better off than when he'd left California.

Just then a voice came from inside the bunkhouse. A ranch hand stuck his head out of the door.

" Johnny? I need to talk to you."

"Come on out here, Nick. Cactus threw a shoe."

The guy named Nick shuffled out of the bunkhouse.

"Sorry, didn't know ya had company," Nick said when he saw Harry.

"Harry, this is Nick Cameron. He's one of the hands. Niall is the third one." Johnny gestured in the direction of the pastures at one of the cowboys checking fences.

"Hi. I remember ya," Nick smiled at Harry. "Johnny, I'm not havin' a lick of luck, and I've called all over the place. I got telephone ear somethin' awful."

Johnny grinned. "Well, Louis said ya gotta stay on that phone 'til ya find someone," was Johnny's matter of fact reply.

"But I musta called three dozen people already. No one wants to work the spring roundup. They all want full time permanent jobs with good pay, or nothin' at all."

"Well, we do also need a man full time, permanent. But the rest have to be temps."

"I doubt I can even find a _temp_ mangood enuff fer Louis. He's a bunch too picky," whined Nick.

"You're gonna have to keep tryin.' Right now the temporary help is the most important. Make it your priority. Those calves won't get rounded up by theirselves. Louis wants to start brandin' and such next week. We've been a man short for months, and we've gotten along so far, so jus' worry about the temporary help fer now."

Harry listened in with sudden, rapt interest. They needed help for the spring roundup! Why hadn't he thought of it earlier? Still, it was outlandish, ridiculous, he tried to tell himself. He knew exactly nothing about rounding up and branding calves. But just the same, he had to try. Desperation gave him the courage to speak up.

"Johnny . . . Like I said yesterday, I'm a good rider and hard worker. I don't know much about cattle, but I worked as a veterinary technician for years, and I have an idea. I could help you with the spring roundup."

The stunned silence bore down on Harry as heavily as a moonless night. Johnny and Nick were both rooted to the spot where they stood, jolted with shock.

It was several seconds before Johnny was able to even look Harry in the eye. Harry had a sneaking suspicion Nick was trying valiantly to keep from bursting into guffaws of laughter, holding it back, not unlike yesterday when Louis Tomlinson had fallen from his horse.

Johnny coughed uncomfortably and put his horse's foot down again.

"Ah, Harry. I know all that. It's jus' that yer a greenhorn. You wouldn't know the first thing to do."

"There's no law against hiring a greenhorn, is there? And it'll give me the chance I need to prove meself. I'd even work for free until you saw I could do it, and hired me on." Harry's heart was pounding with the thought of the tiny morsel of hope he was grasping onto.

Nick wasn't saying a word. He wasn't about to get involved in such a loco thing as this. He casually scooted further and further away until he was at the bunkhouse door, where he quietly slipped back inside.

Johnny sputtered a few times, but was apparently unable to form a single word. Finally, he saw his way out, although he hated like hell to throw Harry on Louis Tomlinson's mercy.

"Harry, Louis does the hirin' of ranch hands. You know that by now. I don't have the authority. And I'll tell you right now, he'll laugh you right off the place." He tried to lessen the impact of his words by patting Harry on the shoulder. "I'm sorry; I'm not tryin' to be mean, just tellin' you the truth, man."

Well then, why had Johnny told Harry to come back and try again sometime soon? Maybe he was figuring it would give Louis some time to cool off from yesterday. Harry had no idea, but he still wasn't giving up.

Louis Tomlinson was the one person he wanted least to come up against. The one person who would not give him the time of day. But it looked like he had no choice. The rancher had had his pride hurt when Harry had seen him fall off his horse, and now held a grudge against him; but hell, Harry might as well admit the rancher had not approved of him in the first place. Aside from the fact that Louis just plain had a nasty temperament to begin with. Harry sighed. He didn't have a fucking chance in hell!

Johnny gently informed Harry that Louis wouldn't be back until the end of the day, so there was no point in waiting for him. Johnny suggested perhaps Harry should wait a few more days before putting in another appearance. Louis would be missing lunch today because of all the work he and the others were trying to catch up on, and would not be in the best of moods when he finished for the day. He'd be tired, hungry, and wanting to take a shower.

"Downright crotchety," were Johnny's words verbatim.

Harry took Johnny's advice, but decided he'd come back _tomorrow_ morning, not in a few days, as Johnny had advised.

That afternoon, Harry called his mum, Audrey and Tish. After an hour of consoling each one, reassuring them he was fine, he felt like he'd been in a wrestling match. Of course, they all asked about job prospects, and Harry told them he had an interview in the morning. That was really stretching the truth, since Harry knew he'd be lucky if he could get Louis Tomlinson to listen to him for even a few seconds before booting him off the ranch. But knowing how concerned his loved ones were, he edited anything that might give them any idea of the grave situation he was in. He told them about the ranch, but didn't go into much detail, as he didn't want to lift their hopes.

The mental fatigue became physical fatigue. That evening, reading in his motel room after showering, ready to give himself up to sleep, Harry heard a strange sound from somewhere outside. It was close by, whatever it was. It was a strange gurgling sound, not unlike running water, but harsher sounding.

Cautiously peeking out of the window, Harry saw the source of the odd noise. He was pretty sure it was a turkey, but it didn't bear much resemblance to any turkey he'd seen. It was thin and rangy, unkempt looking with greasy looking feathers. Extremely homely, he thought to himself. It picked about in the dirt behind the motel, looking for insects, Harry assumed. He took some bread from the refrigerator and, opening the door, threw it in the bird's direction. However, it barely acknowledged the crusts, and continued to scratch and pick at the dusty red Texas dirt. Must be one of those wild turkeys that roamed Texas that he'd read about. It either didn't approve of the bread, or didn't recognize it as a source of food.

He woke at four in the morning, and could not get back to sleep. He tried every trick he'd ever employed, but his nerves were stretched so tightly, his breathing rapid, his body just refusing to relax. After remaining wide awake for half an hour, Harry finally gave a giant sigh and got up out of bed.

Dressing was difficult because his hands were shaking. His guts quaked with the mere thought of facing that surly, although very appealing man for a job. The fact that Louis Tomlinson was so attractive just complicated everything.

Was he attractive to everyone, or just Harry? How he wished Johnny was the owner of the ranch! Now that, he could handle. Even if he was turned down, _again_ , at least he could expect Johnny to be civil about it. Mr. Tomlinson would probably gloat about his authority to turn Harry away.

Johnny had said the hired hands got up at dawn, ate breakfast and were in the saddle by six o'clock. So, after getting ready, Harry at least didn't have to wait a long time before heading over to the ranch. He wanted to catch them after they'd eaten, but before they had time to ride out. This was going to be tricky. He decided the best way to approach it was to drive over and wait in his Rover until they came out to saddle their horses.

At five forty-five, the hands filed out of the bunkhouse as the cook was hauling dirty dishes back to the main house on a cart. About the same time, Harry saw Louis Tomlinson in his rear view mirror, coming from the main house and striding toward the bunkhouse.

Harry was dressed nicely, yet casually, much like yesterday. He got out of the Rover and forced his shaking legs to work. He tried to look businesslike, yet friendly at the same time. If only he knew more about Mr. Tomlinson, he might have been able to plan a strategy, but all he knew so far was how ill-tempered the man seemed to be. Harry decided to smile, already knowing he wouldn't get one in return, but it wouldn't do a bit of harm either.

The sun was just beginning to lighten the sky and the ranch held an enchanted quality in this first glimmer of dawn. The peaceful cattle and horses grazing in the green pastures, the chickens clucking contentedly at their scratch, the odd rooster letting loose a hoarse, boastful crow from his puffed up chest, a few quiet nickers from the horses.

Suddenly, something moved quickly from around the side of the bunkhouse, _too quickly,_ into the edge of Harry's vision, making Harry jump. It was huge, and moving stealthily toward him. It was still hard to see well since the sun wasn't all the way up yet, and Harry could hear a panting sound. He stepped back promptly, then saw it was a dog. And a very beautiful one at that. A German Shepherd, known as Alsatians in Britain. And massive—it must have weighed over a hundred pounds.

Well accustomed to canine temperament and gauging it from his years as a vet tech, Harry saw at once that the dog's body language was clearly not threatening. Nevertheless, it approached quietly, with caution and reserve, typical Shepherd behavior when meeting a stranger. It was sizing him up, studying his behavior. It wanted to know what his intentions were.

Knowing this breed of dog was extremely protective of their territory, Harry did not attempt to pet it when it came close enough to sniff his boots. Harry stood quietly, speaking to it in low tones, giving it space. It was a wolf sable color, ears erect, huge head and muscled body, one of the most magnificent dogs Harry had ever seen.

Just then Johnny saw him.

"Hi Harry!" He walked up and grabbed the dog's chain collar. "Shadow Bear won't hurt you. She's the ranch dog. Kinda belongs to all of us."

"Hi Johnny." Boy was Harry glad to see a familiar face. "She's a proper beautiful dog. You don't have to hold her. I can see she's not mean."

"Sometimes she intimidates people, jus' on account of her size," Johnny said as he released the dog.

"I can see why. I love Alsatians. So intelligent."

"Ain't that the truth! She's a lot smarter than some people I know. And she sure lets you know when there's someone around she don't trust, loud and clear! She reads people right well."

Just then, Louis Tomlinson's shadow approached, and Johnny's expression turned tentative, almost apprehensive. Harry suspected Johnny knew Louis would not be eager to welcome Harry. There was no doubt in Harry's mind the shadow was Louis. There was something about his walk, his presence. Yes, that man had _presence._

When Harry greeted Louis and asked if he could have a word with him, the man did not respond. He had a poker face, and refused to acknowledge Harry. Johnny threw an apologetic look Harry's way and walked toward the corral, leaving him on his own. There was nothing more he could do. Harry had peered at Johnny's face for a final second, trying to draw some courage from him. And it worked. At least for a minute. Until he and Louis were alone.

Louis went into the tack room that adjoined the bunkhouse and came out carrying a saddle. He lifted it onto the fence and draped his bridle over the saddle horn. How could he ignore Harry like that?

 _So rude_ , thought Harry, annoyed. He was standing right next to him, yet the rancher acted as if he were invisible.

A cigarette dangling from between his lips, Louis Tomlinson spread his legs slightly and looked into the corral at the remuda of horses bunched together at the far end, attempting to avoid the ropes being swung at their heads by the other men. Hands on hips, he took his time turning slowly, dramatically to look at Harry. Harry felt as if he were smack dab in the middle of a Western movie.

"You might as well not waste me time or yours," Louis began. "I'm not hirin.'" He said this so quietly and smoothly in that sexy drawl of his that Harry was shaken in spite of himself. He had an almost overpowering urge to let his teeth chatter. And not just from the early morning chill. Louis Tomlinson's icy chill was much, much colder.

Hearing a very slight Texas accent along with the Yorkshire accent was almost laughable, but Harry was a long way from laughing.

Harry shoved his bashful tendencies aside. If ever there was a time to get a grip on himself, it was now. His life depended on this moment. Every word, every gesture must count.

"All I want is for you to give me a chance to talk to you for just a few minutes, yeah? Please let me have that much."

"I told you already. There's nothin' to talk about. So why even say another word?" This man sure knew how to be blunt. Plainspoken, and no empathy at all.

"I feel I can prove meself to you. I can ride, I'm not afraid of work. I can learn what I don't know. The spring round-up . . ." Harry trailed off, knowing there wasn't much else to say.

His hat in his hand, cigarette smoke drifting around his head like fog, Louis raked his hand through that caramel colored hair that shone like spun gold, even in the dim light of dawn, and jammed said hat onto his head. Those haunting blue eyes regarded Harry with—what was it? Distrust?

His lips sucked gently at the cigarette as Harry watched on, captivated, not physically able to do anything else but stare. He tried to drag his gaze away from the rancher's lips. Horrified, he suddenly realized he couldn't look away if his life depended on it.

Legs still spread arrogantly, Louis blew the smoke out slowly, deliberately, it seemed, then hooked his thumbs in his jeans pockets. Such an unconsciously masculine gesture. He wasn't a big man, but his bearing made up for it.

 _Damn!_ Everything this man did looked erotic to Harry. And Louis' smug expression told Harry it was very possible he was enjoying making him feel uncomfortable.

Time paused as Louis' gaze took him in. His eyes roved over Harry slowly—not lewdly, but as if he were sizing him up, appraising him.

 _Like a piece of horseflesh,_ Harry thought to himself.

Harry, mortified, felt his nipples begin to harden. His body's instant reaction alarmed him. This had never happened before. Only when Harry had had erotic thoughts, but it had never been caused by an actual person.

He ordered his mind to behave itself—and his nipples too. In an instant, he was no longer chilled, but hot and flushed feeling.

 _I don't like this feeling. I feel out of control._

There could not possibly be a worse time to be feeling like this. Lusting for this rough cowboy when he should be carefully planning ahead, deciding on what he'd say next to convince Louis Tomlinson to hire him. This was important! Never before had he experienced this raw, earthy desire, and it petrified him. it was eating him alive, robbing him of his ability to think.

Instead of losing his temper and throwing him off the ranch as Harry half expected him to, Louis just kept up that unnerving, penetrating stare of his. No shame to be found in this man.

 _He's trying to intimidate me._

Harry would give anything to know what he was thinking.

Louis spoke so suddenly that Harry inadvertently jumped.

"I've been under a lotta pressure lately. And I don't need any more. We've got spring round-up startin' next week, plus there's countless other things that need doin.' Fences, paintin,' always checkin' cattle to see if they need doctorin,' mares will be foalin' any time now. We'll never get caught up without some good help. _And that doesn't include you_. Ideal conditions are not what you encounter on a horse and cattle ranch. There's nothin' but sweat and dirt and heat, and long days. You don't look like the type that would hold up."

That took Harry aback. He knew he had a baby face, but he was a _man_ after all!

"I may not be in the same physical shape you guys are, but my looks are deceivin.' I'm stronger than I look. And I'd get in shape faster than I bet you realize. And I know about doctorin.' I worked for a small animal vet, and I did it all the time. And large animals can't be that different from small. I don't get squeamish either. I'm used to all kinds of wounds, infections, and I've helped with plenty of births, including cesareans. I can bandage and give injections too. I've drawn blood . . ."

This gave Louis pause, but for only a second.

"Small animals weigh a tiny fraction of large animals. They won't kill ya if they roll over on ya," was Louis' scornful comeback. Then he fired again, giving Harry no chance to recover.

"Can you ride a cuttin' horse?

"I ride both English and Western—well, maybe only a _little_ Western," admitted Harry reluctantly. He'd ridden in a Western saddle only a few times. "But cuttin' can't be that hard to learn."

Louis threw back his head and laughed—a careless laugh that made Harry's toes curl. Geez, even his _laugh_ was sexy! But why was he laughing anyway?

"Lad, you haven't _ridden_ until you've ridden a cuttin' horse. The first time the horse turned hard, you'd hit the ground."

Harry resented Louis calling him a "lad" even though there couldn't be more than a few years' difference in their ages.

"Never mind a cuttin' horse. You still wouldn't last half a day. We'd end up havin' to babysit you. I need to get to work. So, if you'll kindly excuse me," Louis' voice was sarcastic and snide.

He mocked Harry with an exaggerated tip of his hat and then strode into the corral.

The other hands had collected their horses and were busy saddling them at the hitching post, pretending they hadn't been trying to listen to what Louis and Harry had been discussing. If you could even call it that. It had mostly been Louis talking _at_ Harry, not with him.

Harry watched Louis twirl his rope smoothly over his head and settle the noose expertly on the neck of a leopard Appaloosa. The big gelding was nicely marked—white with small black spots the size of dimes widely distributed over most of his body.

Harry reached down and absently stroked the dog's head as, against his will, he marveled at Louis' easy masculine grace as he led the animal out of the gate and to the hitching post.

The dog had apparently decided Harry was a friend, seeing how the men accepted his presence. What was her name? Oh yeah, Shadow Bear. What an interesting name. Harry wondered how she'd acquired it.

Not intending to give up until he had to, Harry walked up to Louis' horse and crooned softly. This horse was much more amenable to attention than Johnny's aloof horse, Cactus. Harry loved the black mottling on his pink and white nose. This was Harry's favorite trait of the Appaloosa. The animal responded to Harry's caresses by nuzzling his arm with his velvety soft nose.

Louis tried to quell his irritation that his horse seemed to cotton to Harry. He finished grooming and saddling in record time, gathering his reins in preparation to mount. Harry was shocked the man hadn't ordered him off the ranch by now.

Quickly, in an effort to detain him a little longer, Harry asked, "What's his name?"

Louis glared at him, his nimble mind fully aware of what this fellow Brit was doing.

"Joaquin. Now, I have work to do. Sorry I couldn't help you, and I suggest you seek a job elsewhere."

With that, he jammed his hat down more firmly on his head, wheeled his horse and fluidly cantered off.

Harry was still staring at Louis' retreating form when Johnny halted his horse beside him on his way out to follow Louis.

"I heard. I'm sure sorry. I wish I could do somethin,' but he's the boss." Johnny smiled, looking regretful and with quiet understanding of this nice stranger's plight.

"Thank you Johnny. I appreciate your concern."

"Do you have a place to stay?"

"Yes." Harry didn't want to tell him he was staying in motel rooms, and probably soon, in his Rover.

Not knowing what else to say, Johnny nodded, and was off, catching up to Louis in a few seconds. He turned and looked back, waving a farewell.

Now that the men were all gone, Harry was forced to take a reality check. The force of what was before him now almost knocked him to his knees. His Rover was still making noise, his future was completely up in the air, and his nerves were in tatters.

And the unreachable, unimpressionable ranch owner had already dismissed him from his mind. That man could have given him employment if he'd wanted to. But he was only doing his job. He was focused, having the best interests of his ranch in mind. And that included hiring the right help. Harry couldn't put any blame on him. But Louis was, nonetheless, pretty ruthless.

Without knowing it was going to happen, Harry found himself sobbing softly. Rivers of tears splashed into the red dust at his feet. He didn't fight it, knowing it was alright for men to cry sometimes, and that it would cleanse him, maybe give him newfound courage. Everyone needed to cry now and then.

Whining in concern, Shadow Bear licked his hand. Harry smiled through his tears at the astute animal. He squatted down and let the big dog console him with gently waving tail and big brown eyes.

"At least you have a heart. Did you used to be an Indian's dog? Is that how you got your name?"

Glancing around to make sure there was no one around, Harry continued to cry until he was temporarily out of tears. Afterward, he felt much better. In fact, ideas came to him, and he developed a new resolve.

He decided he'd come back every day until Louis Tomlinson hired him. He'd be here at the bunkhouse at dawn every morning, rain or shine, without fail, tenacious, stubborn, determined. Eventually, Louis Tomlinson would have to cave in—if for no other reason than to gain himself some peace.


	9. Chapter 9

Harry idly reflected on what had happened at the Rocking Horse Ranch this morning.

Joaquin. Who would think to give a horse a name like that? Harry believed it was an old hippie name, bohemian. And somehow it seemed perfectly fitting that Louis Tomlinson would choose it as a name for his horse. Yes, surely unique. Harry would bet a fifty dollar bill that Louis wouldn't ever be caught dead naming a horse Spot, or Brownie or anything conventional or ordinary.

Harry had recovered from his self- pity, and now was committed to staying optimistic. This Mr. Tomlinson though, was an enigma, if there ever was one. He was a whole lot more than Harry had bargained for. He'd felt vulnerable, unarmed in the man's presence. He could also swear the man had seen his erect nipples through his shirt. Those penetrating blue eyes didn't leave much unnoticed.

Louis was not your typical cowboy. Much too bright, alert, and chillingly observant. Not that the others were stupid, but Louis wasn't kick back like them. He was constantly vigilant. He seemed to be educated too. His speech was evident of that. He also seemed to always be a step ahead of what Harry was thinking. Harry had the feeling he knew everything he felt and thought. Impossible though. No one could do that.

What really upset Harry was his fear that Louis might have sensed the sexual excitement he hadn't been very good at hiding when near the man. Damn nipples. Ambiguously he hated himself for being attracted to him, yet the delicious sensations Louis had awakened were undeniable.

He would have to resist his yearnings, but that didn't mean he had to resist the tingles of arousal Louis elicited, did he?

 _Just enjoy the view, and don't let it interfere with the game plan to get the job. Most of all, don't ever let him see how he affects you._

Problem was, there _was_ no game plan, except to show up every morning.

The next day, Harry arrived at the ranch at five-thirty. When Louis appeared, he took one look at Harry and growled deeply in his throat. Was the lad deliberately trying to wear him down? Sooner or later, Louis knew he'd lose his cool and blow up, and he didn't want that to happen. He reined in his temper, determined that the baby faced, dimpled wonder would not wiggle in, past his defenses.

Louis was, in reality, a rare breed of man that was actually quite sensitive, though he seldom showed it. He didn't want anyone to think he was weak. Truth was, he actually felt a little sorry for the charming Brit who was so tenacious in his effort to find a job.

Louis had been so overworked lately that he hadn't even had time or the motivation to go into town to relax, have a beer. So he was extra irritable as of late. Everyone suffered for it, too. Everyone from the housekeeper, to the cook, to the ranch hands.

He'd been horny, alright, when he'd gone into town in the recent past, but none of the women who approached him (and there were a fair amount) did a thing for him. He wasn't a one-night-stand kind of guy. Casual sex just didn't cut it. Even taking that into consideration, he found himself less and less interested. And he wasn't ready to allow any other reasons for his disinterest to surface. That was precarious territory.

His considerable sex drive had been deprived for much too long, and everyone knew that a man who wasn't getting laid was apt to be onery. That, along with the work load . . . Louis feared he might take it out on Harry, who had been polite almost to a fault. But the lad was so damn tireless in his quest to wear Louis down to the point to where Louis just gave in and gave him a job. Louis was pretty certain that was Harry's intention.

When Harry met Louis at the corral in front of the bunkhouse, Shadow Bear close on Harry's heels, Harry noticed Louis looked a little drawn, and the heavier than usual beard shadow on his face indicated he hadn't shaved again this morning. _How would that feel against his bare skin?_ Harry ignored the urge to reach out and stroke it with his fingers. He'd probably slept in until the last moment, Harry mused. It was apparent the rancher was tired, and so were the other men.

But that could work in Harry's favor if he played his cards right. If Louis could be persuaded there was any possibility that he could ease their work load just a little . . .

"I thought I made meself clear yesterday," Louis bit out. I'm not hirin' you." His abrupt words momentarily crushed Harry, but he quickly recovered.

"You look much better when you smile," Harry had pushed the words out of his mouth before he lost his nerve. "At least, I'm bettin'you do, because I haven't seen one yet. Oh wait, I _did_ see you smile at the Huck Finn Jubilee."

Louis was floored. To what lengths would this lad go to get a job, anyway? Had someone pointed him out to the Brit, encouraging him to ask for a job?

"You were there?" he asked.

"Yeah. It was the first day I was in Pecos. I love the town."

"Why don't you go try some other ranches?" It was all Louis could do to try to level out his emotions. Anger at the young man who wouldn't take no for an answer, commiseration, and annoyance at himself for putting up with it as long as he had. He was becoming desperate to be rid of the maddening presence of this person who was sticking to him like adhesive.

"I tried two other ranches, and I'd have to go out of Pecos because they can't afford to hire anyone."

Of course they couldn't. Louis already knew that. His was the only reasonably prosperous ranch in the area. The only one that did better than break even. What was he going to have to resort to doing to get this guy out of his hair?

Louis took a final drag on his cigarette, threw it down and stomped it out with the heel of his boot. Then he looked up at Harry with a sinister expression, his blue eyes blazing.

"Do I have to build a fence to keep you out mate? Because I can, and _will_ do that, you know. You're gonna have to leave. _Now."_

"Just give me a week! I'll show you I can carry me weight. One week!" Harry was perilously close to tears again. But no way would he ever cry in front of this man. He drew a deep, ragged breath and met his eyes defiantly, bound and determined to not let him see him flinch at his curt replies.

" _No!"_ Louis' voice was raised slightly for the first time. But not by much. It didn't take much. The look in his intensely blue eyes told Harry how thin his patience was running. Steely and hard, those previously bright blue eyes were turning dark and menacing. Like a storm brewing, thunderclouds preparing to let loose all their fury. His eyebrows knit, Louis stared Harry down in the most disquieting fashion he could manage.

"Fine. I'll go. I'm sorry I wasted your time." Louis could have been halfway polite about it. But then, Harry had pushed him too far, and Harry knew it.

It was impossible for Harry to be objective about this thing. His emotions, his desperation were clouding his thinking. The rancher was exasperated by Harry's obstinacy. Had been pressured to the point of total frustration. He was in a tough position. If Harry were to be honest with himself, he could hardly expect Louis Tomlinson to hire him. The men who worked for him might lose respect for him for using such poor judgment. It was ludicrous. Harry was expecting the impossible.

Turning, Harry strode out on his long legs toward the Rover before Louis saw the tears that were steadily welling up. By the time he reached the vehicle, the tears were flowing. He stood looking at his Rover, the vehicle had seen him through many years and miles, wondering how much longer it would hold up.

He didn't know how long he was standing there—it couldn't have been long, trying to find the ambition to get in and drive off when he heard a horse approaching from behind.

He sneaked in a sideways glance and saw Johnny's gelding, Cactus, stomping his front hooves as if disgruntled. Johnny dismounted and dropped the reins, trusting the well trained mount to stay put.

He circled the Rover to where Harry stood, and shook his head, as if at a loss for words. Harry wiped quickly at his face, but Johnny had already seen his tears, not to mention his red nose.

"Wish I could change things. I hope Louis wasn't too short with ya. He's not really as abrasive as he appears. He jus' has things on his mind." Harry'd heard this before, but it didn't help his predicament.

Despite everything, Harry felt his heart swell with genuine fondness for Johnny nonetheless. He sniffled and fought to control his shaky voice.

"Well, I do appreciate how nice you've been. He can't help it, like you said. He's preoccupied and I guess I've made a right pest of meself."

"Naw, he'll get over it."

The next words poured from Harry's mouth before he could swallow them.

"I have no home, no job, and me Rover is breaking down." He hated the way he sounded—whiny and exposed. "What can I do now?" As if Johnny could wave a magical wand and change it all.

Johnny considered this for a moment. "Well, maybe I cain't think of a solution for your first two problems, but I can surely take a peek under the hood," he smiled.

"You have to get to work. Louis will get mad."

"No, he won't. Like I told ya yesterday, I've been employed here for twelve years. Longer than Louis has been the owner. He knows I'll get my work done. I always do."

He then popped the hood of the Rover, and Harry steeled himself for the worst. He just knew Johnny was going to say the engine or transmission or something else major was failing. Something that would cost thousands.

Johnny groped around under the hood. He checked all the fluid levels. A few seconds later, he chuckled under his breath, as if pleased, then turned to Harry, smiling widely

"Here's yer problem," he said, pointing to a belt. "It's loose. Has the vehicle been squealin'?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, see this here? Too much slack in the belt. I'll jus' tighten it up and it'll be good to go. But I see your fan belt is gettin' a little worn. Needs to be replaced. I cain't see anythin' else obvious, but then I'm not a professional mechanic, jus' a shade tree one, but I do well enough to get by."

Harry perked up considerably. "Belts aren't terribly expensive, are they?" he asked hopefully.

"A couple of dollars. And I can put it on within ten minutes," said Johnny as he tightened the first belt.

"Oh no. I'll go to a garage and have them do it."

"I'd be happy to. That is, unless you'd rather have a professional do it."

"Oh no, Johnny. That's not it. It's just that you need to go to work."

"Fact is, I was gonna go into town for a few things we need in a couple hours, when the stores open. I was gonna ride fence with the others 'til then. It would only take a minute to get your fan belt too. Wanna go with me?"

Harry's heart lifted. "Sure. I really appreciate this. If you're absolutely sure it's alright."

"I wouldn't ask if it wasn't. You can stay in the bunkhouse in the meantime. There's a TV . . . and a bathroom, and a refrigerator with soft drinks and some orange juice, I think."

"Mr. Tomlinson won't care?"

"He won't know. He'll still be out there," and Johnny waved toward the distant pastures. "I'll be back about eight. Go ahead and make yerself at home inside." He gestured toward the bunkhouse.

Harry was so grateful that he felt a little faint with relief, his legs wobbly, not to mention ashamed that he didn't know enough to even tighten a belt or install a new fan belt. Yep, he should have listened to his father and learned something useful.

He may not have a job yet, but at least the Rover was going to be alright for the moment. That was something.

The bunkhouse turned out to be quite a shock. It was bigger than it appeared from outside, and almost a regular little home all by itself, not merely sleeping quarters.

There were four bunk beds stacked against the opposite wall as he entered, and four on the near wall. A table and chairs were at the far end of the structure. Halfway between the bunk beds and table, against the opposite wall, there was a shower in one cubicle, an enclosed toilet in another and an unenclosed sink and mirror. There was even a little fireplace. Harry supposed it was necessary in winter, since he saw no heater.

The TV was hung from a bracket on the ceiling near the table, and a refrigerator stood on the other side of the bathroom facilities. On the other side of that, there was a wall air conditioner. Everything a group of ranch hands needed.

Actually, he found it quite homey. He was surprised to see all the beds made. The wooden, split log floor was clean, and a large braided rug lay before the fireplace. Harry wondered if the hands did their own housekeeping, or if the main house maid also serviced the bunkhouse. The bunkhouse didn't even smell the way he would have expected it to. It smelled of soap and saddle leather. Not at all unpleasant.

The time was passing quickly while Harry sporadically watched the TV and looked out the windows at the animal life starting their day. He saw the mustang Louis had brought in on that first day, looking comfortable and munching on his breakfast of hay in a corral. He wondered what Louis had planned for him.

The chickens strutted around, scratching and sometimes pecking against the bunkhouse door, startling him. Harry was a little nervous that Louis might ride in for some reason, and find him here. What would he say? He could, however, see that they were a quarter to half a mile out, slowly riding along the fences and occasionally dismounting to fix something. Louis' horse was always glaringly visible, being mainly white with those little black spots. At least Harry could keep track of where the rancher was, and have plenty of warning should Louis head this way, and this thought made him a little less jumpy.

Louis could not keep his mind on his job. The guilt was tearing him up inside. He'd been too gruff with the lad. He couldn't help but admire the Brit's resoluteness, coming back twice already, before it was even fully light outside. Johnny had briefly told him Harry's story—what little he knew. Sounded feasible too, that he knew no one nearby—was drifting. The lad sure seemed determined to work, and wasn't caving to defeat. But he'd never work out as permanent help. He was green as grass.

He just felt bad about the caustic way he'd spoken to him. That's all it was. He couldn't go soft about it. Louis was extra careful not to let anyone see this side of him. If anyone knew about it, that would be Johnny. But he trusted Johnny with his life—Johnny who had been such good friends with his father long before the older cowboy had come to work at the Rocking Horse Ranch.

Louis wondered fleetingly if he should hire Harry as a temp just for the spring roundup. God knew, they needed the help. If the guy was as fast a learner as he claimed he was . . .

"Hey Lou. Can I talk to ya?" Johnny rode up beside him with an interesting look on his face, his voice holding an experimental timbre. Louis made it his business to try to read his men's expressions at all times. Sometimes expressions said a hell of a lot more than words. Normally, Johnny didn't look uncertain about much. But today his eyes flicked everywhere but directly into Louis.' What did that tone in his voice connote? He didn't recall hearing it before, and therefore it made the rancher uneasy.

"Shoot."

"About Harry . . . um . . . his SUV has a fan belt about to break. I offered to buy him another one when I go to town and . . . put it on for him."

Louis groaned. "Damn it to hell Johnny! What's bloody wrong with you? What'd you go and go that for? Is the guy fuckin' helpless or sommat? He's a grown man. He can fix it himself."

"Um . . . I think he's a little . . . inexperienced with that kinda thang. Well, maybe in life in general too," Johnny lifted his hat and scratched his head.

That much, thought Louis, was pretty evident. The lad had been way too sheltered.

Harry was really getting to Louis. Why couldn't he just go away? Was he doing things on purpose? Pretending not to know how to fix his vehicle to have an excuse to stick around? Suspicion lurked in the dark corners of Louis' mind. He couldn't imagine the lad preying on Johnny to get on his good side. He just didn't seem like the type. Unless he was a flawless actor. Also, Johnny was a really good judge of character, and Louis doubted Harry could pull one over on him.

Louis struggled to make sense of this unnerving trouble with the mysterious drifter who had just showed up, wouldn't leave, and now was slowly becoming his worst nightmare.

"He needs help, Lou. He has no one to fix it for him."

"He can't go to a mechanic?"

"He was upset, and it was makin' a lotta noise. I didn't want it to break before he could get it somewhere. And while I'm on the subject . . . about Harry, that is . . . he's a really nice kid, and has no job and nowhere to go. Couldn't we just hire him on for the spring roundup?" Johnny blurted boldly.

Louis looked as though he suddenly wanted to explode, scream bloody murder, climb the walls, If there had been any walls close by, that was. He removed his hat, dragging a hand through his hair, then shook his head as if this whole predicament would somehow just go away with the gesture. Now the kid had Johnny on his side! How did he do it? But Louis already knew the answer. By being charming, that was how. If the kid were only as good with ranch work as he was with the copious amounts of charm that he poured on so thickly. And Louis didn't even want to dwell on his good looks . . .

"Johnny, I know you're me right-hand man, and I really like and respect you. We've worked together for a long time, and you were always 'round when me dad was alive. He trusted you, and so do I. I just can't believe you're fallin' for his lines! You, of all people!"

"Louis, I really think he's sincere," Johnny knew he was really sticking his neck out, but since he'd gotten this far . . . "He ain't said or done nothin' that would cause me to think otherwise. He's got his head on straight, and I think he'd try right hard to help out, do his best. He wants to settle in Pecos. Somethin' jus' tells me hirin' him is the right thang to do."

"You feel sorry for him, Johnny. That's all it is. What's got into you?"

Louis searched Johnny's face frantically, looking for a foothold in this bizarre conversation. Never had the Rocking Horse Ranch hired anyone other than skillful, well-trained, seasoned help.

"He can ride. Even if he jus' helped us wrangle the calves, separate them from their mothers, helped to keep 'em gathered when we start brandin' and such. I can think of a bunch of other little things he could do to make things easier for us."

Johnny didn't know why, but he felt driven to help the Brit who had that lost look.

"I feel compelled to help . . . I don't know why I feel so damn responsible." Johnny sighed, now completely out of arguments.

"Okay, so he can ride. Well, can he rope, or ride a cutter? He's ridden mostly _English,"_ Louis said with distain, even though he was fully aware he had no right, having been born in Britain himself, and knowing that riding English was not as easy as it looked.

"He's good as worthless," Louis finished up.

But a moment later, feeling he had to add more persuasion to solidify his case. "He wouldn't know the first thing about fixin' a fence, how to avoid an angry mother cow, or manage a fractious stallion. He'd just end up gettin' hurt or killed. And who's fault would that be? Mine! Why? Because I was stupid enough to hire him!"

Johnny pursed his lips and said no more. Louis was being his usual self—pragmatic as hell, infuriating and totally inflexible.


	10. Chapter 10

Harry was sipping orange juice from a glass he'd found in a cupboard in the bunkhouse when Johnny pulled Cactus up at the hitching post. Johnny was wearing an odd smile. It was something between a grin and a grimace. Happy, gloomy or indifferent. . . . Harry didn't know as he wasn't accustomed to Johnny's countenance yet. Cactus was throwing his head and blowing.

Harry met Johnny at the bunkhouse door, being careful not to be seen from the outside.

"What's wrong with him?" Harry inquired regarding Cactus.

"He wants to keep movin,' always impatient," Johnny seemed resigned to his horse's intemperance.

"You don't have to hide, Lou knows you're in here," Johnny informed him, making Harry catch his breath.

"He does?"

Johnny nodded, looking just a tad shaken up.

Harry soon found out the source of Johnny's unsettled manner. As they got into one of the ranch's flat bed trucks, Johnny turned to Harry and let out a huge blast of air, puffing out his cheeks, as if he had barely escaped something menacing.

"You'll never guess what I jus' did, Harry." Johnny looked preoccupied, his eyes gravely serious, yet they also sparkled. Harry couldn't figure out why the man looked beat and auspicious at the same time.

"What?" asked Harry, alarmed.

"I hope I didn't make a mistake. I was talkin' to Lou, tryin' to talk him into thinkin' about hirin' you . . ."

Johnny hesitated, dragging it out, prolonging Harry's agony.

"Johnny, tell me!" cried a very concerned Harry.

Johnny snapped back to reality, and sighed long and deep, Texas style. Harry was still adjusting to the fact that you never knew how long it might take to get an answer, even if it were a critical matter. It wasn't altogether intentional; just a Texas trait.

"I reminded him that no one we've contacted wants to be temporary help, and that, with spring round-up comin,' even inexperienced help was better 'n no help."

Harry tried . . . oh how he tried, not to get hopeful.

"He gave me a right hard time, cussin' a blue streak the likes that even _I've_ not heard before, but in the end, he agreed that if you can learn fast, the way you say you can, he'll give you a shot."

Harry gasped, instantly flooded with relief that made him weak.

"But . . . Johnny emphasized, "only for the spring round-up. And he's in a godawful mood 'cause he thinks it was probably the wrong decision."

That last sentence didn't trouble Harry. He knew that he'd be able to win Louis over not only for the spring round up, but as a permanent hand afterward, because he was going to throw everything he had into this. Work as hard as he could, learn as much as he was capable of learning. Or die trying.

"I'll do me absolute best. And Johnny . . . " Harry blushed, allowing himself to be vulnerable in his humility. "Thank you, man. Thank you." The older cowboy had really taken a gamble on Harry's ability and sincerity when he'd poured it on thick to Louis.

"Jus' don't make me look bad."

In town, it was a challenge for Harry to get the money to the cashier before Johnny could peel off a couple of bills from his wallet. New fan belt in hand, Harry followed Johnny to a feed store and they loaded the flat bed with some supplements for pregnant mares, grain, linseed oil and bran.

"I'll jus' give you one piece of advice," Johnny said to Harry back at the ranch, after he'd finished installing Harry's new fan belt. "When the hands come in for lunch, and Louis comes at you salivatin' like a rabid coyote, you'd better high-tail it outta Texas right quick." Johnny smiled teasingly, and Harry nevertheless knew from prior comments of Johnny's that Louis was a man of integrity, and that if he had told Johnny he would hire him, he would keep his word. This was Johnny's way of joking around.

Harry helped to put the feed away, and before he knew it, the cowboys were riding in for lunch. He didn't know if Nick and Niall, the other two ranch hands, knew what was going on, but suspected they hadn't been told yet.

Their curiosity piqued to the fullest, they cast glances at Harry, nodding in greeting, and he sensed they were dying to solve the mystery of why this strange young man with the baby face and long hair was hanging around, even though they'd heard Louis order him off the ranch for the last two days.

The cook, a portly man in his late forties, offered Harry lunch, and he tried to eat, sitting next to Johnny on the bench outside the bunkhouse with the others, but his nerves were so fragile that he felt as if he would choke on his food. He only got half of the thick ham and cheese sandwich down.

The few times Harry dared to look at him, Louis looked aggravated. He sure was a grump, and Harry found himself wondering if this was frequent, ongoing behavior.

 _He was regretting hiring Harry, and Harry knew it._

After lunch, Louis took Johnny aside and said a few words to him, his face a mask devoid of emotion. Then Louis rode his horse off briskly.

"It's official. Lou will give you your first check tomorrow, when you report for work. He's givin' you an advance, somethin' I ain't never seen him do before," Johnny tried to train his features into a look of indifference, but Harry felt his elation. Johnny was truly happy that Louis had given Harry the job.

"And don' worry about the salary. Louis' generous, as long as you carry your share of the workload."

This must be a dream! Harry was pretty sure he knew why he was getting an advance. Because of his dire circumstances. So . . . looked like Louis Tomlinson _did_ have a heart after all.

After Johnny advised Harry to check out of his motel because it would no longer be needed, he informed the Brit that he'd now, as of tomorrow morning, officially be living in the bunkhouse.

"You'll embarrass Louis if ya don't work out," Johnny warned. He was clearly still stewing about the wisdom of his actions.

"Oh, I will, Johnny. There's no way I'll mess up. Louis will see that he didn't make a mistake."

"I told Lou I had a good feelin' about yer sincerity. Now come on . . . I'll show ya which bunk beds ya can choose from."

After Harry had chosen his bunk bed—a top one, Johnny introduced him to Niall, as Niall was the only one Harry hadn't yet met. By now, Niall and Nick had figured out Harry had been hired. Niall was a cheerful guy who looked roughly Harry's age, with blonde hair and blue eyes. Harry liked him on sight. Niall seemed to be very gregarious, and welcomed Harry with a wide smile. His eyes twinkled, and he looked like he could get into his share of mischief, given the chance.

Louis and Niall were both jarred when they heard each other's accents.

"What do ya know?" marveled Niall. "You're a Brit!"

"And you're Irish!"

"Yeah," said Johnny. "Sounds like it was set up, but it wasn't. Jus' happened that way. Louis and his dad came from England originally, and Niall happened to be driftin' through, lookin' for a job jus' like you, Louis. And now the Rockin' Horse Ranch has two Brits, an Irishman and two Americans!"

"I guess we're the odd ones out—we're outnumbered!" joked Nick, and Johnny chuckled.

Okay, so the kid had almost knocked Louis for a loop. The friendly, polite manner, the almost too-innocent bearing which Louis hadn't figured out was entirely real or not, the vibrant green eyes that were almost too beautiful to gaze at, the curls, and the dimples thrown in there too, as if all the above weren't enough.

The kid had to be the prettiest guy Louis had seen in perhaps _ever._ Too bad he was green as grass—claiming he could ride, which, by the way, Harry seriously doubted. No ranch experience whatsoever. He'd be totally useless, and would only get in the way, making the job the others had to do even harder, as they'd have to stop constantly to show and explain things to him-things that would not be necessary with an experienced ranch hand. What had made him hire Harry? He'd never done such a dumb ass thing before.

But Louis did know why. Everyone deserved a chance. That was why.

Still, having noble reasons didn't change the facts. Hiring this guy really was a joke. The only good reason to have him around would be so Louis could look at him, but that could prove to be hazardous, as Harry would no doubt distract Louis to no end. And that's just what happened—starting on Harry's first day of the job.

Harry was so excited, he could scarcely draw air into his lungs. He planned on proving himself many times over. The hardest part would be getting the hang of things.

He drove up the next morning right before dawn, having checked out of the motel room, his Rover no longer squealing, and that last part made Harry smile despite the early hour. He entered the bunkhouse, suddenly feeling shy. Johnny, Nick and Niall smiled at him, even though they were still groggy from sleep. Louis pointedly looked the other way.

Was Louis forever going to resent him for the way he was put on the spot to hire him?

They ate pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon and sausage along with copious amounts of the strongest coffee Harry had ever had. He guessed what he'd heard about cowboys liking strong coffee must be true. It was alright though, as Harry needed it. He had never been a morning person.

The cook was truly amazing, everything tasting fabulous, and he was referred to as "Cookie." He and Nora, the housekeeper, were the only employees Harry knew of other than himself, Nick, Niall and Johnny.

Louis approached Harry right after breakfast and shoved an envelope into his hand, without even saying "good morning" or offering any kind of greeting.

"Put it somewhere safe. Don't lose it," Louis cautioned as he headed for the corral holding the remuda of horses. Harry started to put the envelope in his jeans pocket, but quickly discarded this idea. What if he got wet, or his jeans were somehow torn? So instead he put it under his pillow on his bunk. He'd look at it tonight—no time right now.

Johnny explained the rest to him. Harry assumed Louis didn't want to be bothered, so had evidently assigned the job to Johnny.

"You'll work long hours, jus' like the rest of us, and that includes six days a week durin' the busy season, which is now through summer. Louis lets everyone take Saturdays off when it's possible, but that doesn't come often in spring and summer. Autumn and winter are slower, and sometimes, due to weather, we work only a few days a week.

"But you'll still receive your salary, year round, and it won't fluctuate. So you can count on a regular paycheck. You'll get one week paid vacation after workin' one year, and two weeks thereafter. Louis also pays for half of the medical insurance. The other half will be taken from your paycheck. No overtime is paid, considerin' the fewer workin' hours in the cooler months. It all evens out in the end. Obviously, vacations can only be taken in autumn and winter.

"Each man gets his own personal ridin' horse. That'll be the horse you spend the most time on; your best mount. But when there's a lot of work, you will also have back-up mounts that you will also choose on the days you use 'em. They are for when your regular horse needs rest. This also covers you if your regular horse gets sick or lame; there will always be at least two others to fall back on. Most big ranches have five horses per cowboy. We find here that three do nicely most of the time. This isn't a _huge_ ranch, but it ain't small neither.

"Louis and myself are the ones you'll take orders from. Niall and Nick haven't been here but a couple of years now. Both are reliable and you can count on 'em to have your back. Louis only hires the best—that's why it's so important that you don't let him down. _Or me._ Remember, I went out on a limb to get you hired."

"I know, and I won't forget that, Johnny. I'll do you and Louis proud."

"Take advantage of learnin' everythin' you can," Johnny added. "I have more patience, but Louis is a damn good teacher himself, if a little blunt." He chuckled softly. "He'll let you know in no uncertain terms if ya screw up."

Harry didn't doubt that for a minute. "And don't let Louis intimidate you. He puts up a hard exterior, but he takes care of his employees. He doesn't ask his men to do anythin' he won't do himself. He works jus' as hard as the rest of us. Any questions?" Johnny finished.

"None I can think of."

"Well then, you'd better get over there and let them help you choose a horse to ride."

Leaning against the corral fence, hip cocked, Louis looked deceptively indolent. Beside him, Joaquin stood patiently, although longingly casting glances out at the other horses and their riders, Nick and Niall, already riding the fence. The horse was eager to get to work.

"What horse do you fancy?" Louis asked. He was so straightforward, not seeming to want to bother with any type of small talk or formalities. His grey Stetson sat low on his forehead, shading those captivating blue eyes of his. Harry thought he saw them glitter. With mirth, or what? Harry wasn't sure.

"Which do you recommend?" Harry asked him, expecting a smart ass answer, and getting just that.

"You said you could ride. So you shouldn't have trouble with any of 'em."

A lot of help that was. After looking the herd over for a moment, he chose a pretty sorrel gelding with a wide blaze. The animal had an intelligent, inquisitive eye—usually a good sign. A "kind" eye, as they called it.

Louis roped him and brought him to the hitching post without a word. Harry buckled on the halter and lead rope Louis handed to him. Then he watched on as Harry grabbed a brush from the tack box and began to groom the horse. He felt uneasy—as if the man was grading him on every move he made. After grooming the horse and picking out his hooves, he asked Louis where his tack was. The rancher pointed through the tack room door at a saddle and pad sitting atop a sawhorse.

"That one'll probably fit you and the horse best."

Harry had the feeling Louis had already thought everything through. As he lifted the saddle, he noted how much heavier it was than an English saddle—at least twenty pounds heavier—maybe twenty-five. He also noticed a minimum of twenty other saddles on sawhorses in neat rows in the tack room.

Everything was clean and well oiled. Several dozen bridles were hung on pegs on the wall, as were halters, lead ropes, and extra reins and bits. Everything was neatly arranged, and he suspected nothing was ever put in the wrong place without a price to pay.

He saddled the sorrel horse, noting the saddle fit him like a glove, then took the bridle Louis had selected and offered to him. Harry tried to ignore his tantalizingly manly scent as he leaned over Harry's shoulder to slip the bridle into his hand. He smelled earthy and faintly of soap and tobacco. This caused a coil of desire to spring loose in Harry's abdomen with no warning.

 _Concentrate!_ He admonished himself.

When the horse was outfitted, Harry waited until Louis mounted, then followed suit. As soon as Harry settled into the saddle, he felt the tightly coiled energy underneath him. This was a lot of horse. Souped up and ready to go. He gathered up the reins, and almost before he knew what was happening, the horse suddenly went into reverse. And he wasn't walking, he was _running_ backward. And faster than Harry had ever dreamed was possible for a horse to back up.

Harry gasped, not knowing what to do. He'd never had a horse do anything like this before, and he searched his mind desperately for the remedy. What had he done wrong?

"Stay outta his mouth!" Louis' authoritative voice reached him. Instantly Harry released the reins, and the gelding stopped backing.

"I can tell you've been ridin' English," Louis snipped in a mocking tone of voice. "These horses are quick, and they're trained to react fast. They're fine-tuned. Pressure on the reins means to back, _now._ And they don't need anyone to hold their heads up."

Flustered more than he was showing outwardly, Harry took this to mean he needed to use a much more relaxed rein. _This was Western riding, and he'd have to get used to it._ He hadn't ridden Western for quite a while. The English style of riding required a bracing rein to keep the horse collected. Contact was kept on the mouth almost all of the time. It had been an automatic move on his part, and a habit he'd have to break.

He also needed to remember to ride one-handed. What a bad way to start off! But he had no more time to ponder it because Louis cantered off, signaling Harry to follow.

At first, Harry was delighted to have such a quick, responsive mount. But when Louis slowed to a trot as they neared the other hands, Harry's horse didn't want to slow down. He began to prance and toss his head, then to snort and bounce around. Harry didn't want to pull on the reins too much for fear he'd begin to back up again at a hundred miles an hour. He didn't know what to do to get the animal back under control.

Harry tried circling the gelding, and it worked, but only for as long as they continued to circle. He couldn't circle the animal for the rest of the day. Bit by bit, the horse became more unmanageable until Harry felt as if a bomb was ready to go off beneath him. Or maybe like a frog was gathering itself to leap, leaving Harry abruptly in the dirt. He really didn't like this feeling.

Harry was sure Louis saw the difficulty he was having. He couldn't help but notice, but he offered no help or advice. Harry felt this must be a test of sorts. Louis wanted to see how well he would handle the situation.

Between leaps and bounds, Harry asked Louis, "What's his name?"

"Latigo," was Louis' bored sounding reply.

"Latigo, calm down now! Be a good boy!" Harry knew that talking to a horse sometimes helped to soothe them. But this guy wasn't nervous, he was just plain feeling too good. _Feeling his oats,_ as the old saying went.

Finally, after ten minutes of this, Louis looked over and remarked, "These ranch horses aren't like lesson arena horses. They're well broke, but they have a lotta fire. They have to, to perform what we sometimes ask of them. They're hot—not beginner horses."

Harry wondered if the word "beginner" wasn't directed at him. Louis was so hard to read. But Harry had his hands so full of trying to manage his mount that he wasn't able to get a good look at the rancher's face to try to guess his state of mind.

Now Harry fully understood why his riding instructor had wanted him to ride a more spirited horse. It was all coming together. Harry was learning humility very quickly. He'd thought he could ride—this horse was trying to prove him wrong. He felt so inadequate, and even a little frightened of this lively horse's antics. He was afraid that at any moment it might decide to bolt, or buck him off.

If that happened, Harry was going to be laughed at, ragged on, and probably be fired straight away. All he wanted was to have his feet safely on the ground again, but if he let the alarm and fear show on his face, the other hands would probably have a field day with it.

Even so, that didn't matter a fraction as much as the one person who's opinion _did_ matter—Louis Tomlinson. Holding onto his job was most important, but Harry realized also that he wanted to prove to Louis that he was competent.

Catching up to the other hired hands, Johnny had a big, sunny smile for Harry.

"Ya chose a good horse," he said. "He's one of my favorites."

"I don't know what I'm doin' wrong," said Harry quietly, looking around to be sure Louis wasn't within ear shot, "but he won't settle down." Harry hoped fervently that Johnny could give him some pointers.

"Don't worry 'bout that. After a couple hours, they calm down a little."

 _A couple hours?_

How in the hell was he going to control this horse for that long? When he had a second, Harry looked around and saw that both Nick and Niall's horses were doing much the same thing his was—horsie gymnastics. The cowboys didn't pay it much mind at all, just riding it out. None of them looked fazed in the least. Even Johnny and Louis' horses were fresh, although not quite as lively as the others.

Nick's horse reared a couple of times, but Nick just made use of his spurs, encouraging the animal to go forward so his front feet would come back to the ground. When Niall's horse bucked, Niall merely pulled him into a few tight circles until he got dizzy enough to behave himself.

So Harry guessed he had been doing things the correct way after all. Perhaps that was why Louis had not yelled at him or offered to help him. Maybe there was hope for him yet.

Latigo did calm down, and it was none too soon for Harry. By then, Harry was nearly exhausted from fighting him. He was trying to watch the other men repair fences so he could learn himself, but it was nearly impossible to do so while trying to hold Latigo still.

When he dismounted, it was a struggle to get back into the saddle. Latigo would dance sideways or try to run as he threw his leg over. So Harry found it was easier to remain mounted. Louis had told him not to help much for the first few days anyway for the purpose of him learning by watching.

Latigo was now trying to stir up trouble. He would try to slyly ease his way over to Johnny's horse. That, of course, would annoy the temperamental Cactus, who would then flatten his ears and try to bite or kick Latigo. By lunchtime, Harry's legs and seat felt like jelly—the parts that weren't numb, that was, and his arms ached so from hauling on the reins that they were also nearly numb.

As they ate thick roast beef sandwiches and potato salad on the bench in the shade outside of the bunkhouse, Harry had to use the bathroom so badly that he thought he might burst while riding what had felt like a very rough pogo stick. The constant jumping and jolting had made his situation even worse. The others snickered as Harry nearly sprinted into the bunkhouse as soon as he dismounted to relieve his bladder.

Louis kept looking at him in a wily way, as if he didn't want Harry to see where he was looking. Harry didn't know quite what to think of that. He found himself wondering what the others thought of him. He knew Johnny liked him at least a little bit, and Louis, for the most part, resented him. Nick and Niall didn't give anything away. Harry was glad, anyway, that they weren't loud and obnoxious bullies, which was kind of what Harry had expected when he'd started working here. It was the new guy that always got picked on. Regardless, Louis was obnoxious enough in his own way to keep Harry feeling uncomfortable.

Back in the saddle again, Harry was so tired he could hardly see straight, and the worst part was he hadn't done any work—just observed the others. He wondered how much more wrung out he would be when the weather got unbearably hot in summer.

But maybe by then, he wouldn't have such a hard time just succeeding at riding these quirky ranch horses and would be able to concentrate more on what he was doing. Getting in shape would be absolutely mandatory. He'd _have_ to be in shape if he were to prove himself capable of being a ranch hand.

They quit at three, and Harry wondered why. He didn't dare hope Louis had called it an early day just for his sake. He couldn't see the rancher cutting him any slack, or offering him any special treatment.

By this time, Latigo was quietly responsive, and Harry had learned he only needed the most subtle of cues. Harry was developing a respect for ranch horses. They knew their jobs, and although they were capable of testing you, they just needed to understand you were in charge.

Harry couldn't imagine riding until dark. As it was, his knees, ankles, back and just about everything else was so stiff that when he dismounted for the last time, he almost couldn't walk.

At dinner, they sat down to a delicious stew, homemade bread and salad. Dessert was blueberry cobbler. Being this good, it was no wonder the cook been employed here for so long. Johnny had mentioned Cookie and Nora, the housekeeper had been here many years before Louis' father died and passed the ranch on to him.

On the Rocking Horse Ranch, Harry felt as if he'd gone back a hundred years in time. And he liked that feeling. It was exactly what he'd been looking for when he'd come to Texas. Everything he'd dreamed of, he now had. Wide open spaces, good horses, good job security. Or so he hoped. He still needed to prove himself so he'd get hired on permanently.

He had to wait his turn for a hot shower, but hey, he was the new guy. And as tired and sore as he was, Harry climbed into his bunk that night a very happy young man.


	11. Chapter 11

When Harry got out of bed at five-fifteen the next morning, he thought he must be the walking dead. He almost _wished_ he were dead as he slid down to the floor from the top bunk.

 _Ouch!_ _Son of a bitch!_ The pain was unreal, and, depending on how he moved, excruciating.

All he had time to do was splash water on his face, brush his teeth and comb his hair. He now knew why the cowboys only shaved every few days. You had to make sure you had enough time to eat a sufficient breakfast to keep you going until lunch. It had to be the number one priority.

The others laughed when they saw how slowly and stiffly he was moving, but at least it wasn't a mean-spirited laugh. More like a sympathetic, understanding laugh. They'd all been there at one time or another.

"Tomorrow will be the worst day," Johnny advised him, although Harry couldn't imagine feeling any worse than he did now. "After that, you'll start gettin' used to those long hours in the saddle. Before long, you won't feel quite right unless yer in a saddle."

Harry was amazed at the tremendous amount of food the others ate. Their plates were heaping. He'd have to accustom his stomach to it also, if he wanted to have enough energy to keep up with them.

Louis didn't waste any time at meals. No talk, no gossip. He finished and walked out of the bunkhouse, his well- fitting Wranglers showing off his fine ass. Probably the finest in the world, mused Harry.

The cowboys roped a mare for Harry today. Now that he felt he was just getting used to Latigo, Louis ordered them to catch him a different mount. Was he doing it on purpose? His boss answered Harry's unspoken question moments later.

"Good for you to ride different horses. It'll improve your riding skill."

If only he'd listened to his riding instructor. Maybe these horses wouldn't seem so daunting if he had. Then he remembered the check in the envelope he'd finally had a chance to look at last night before the lights went out for the night. Despite the physical pain in his body, Harry had smiled.

First he'd looked at the amount, which had made his eyes bug. Even when Johnny had said Louis was generous, Harry still hadn't expected half of what it was written out for. And considering meals and board were already provided, it felt like a king's ransom. It was a small fraction of what he'd been paid as a vet tech.

After getting over his initial shock, Harry's eyes had strayed to the signature on the bottom of the check.

 _Louis Tomlinson,_ with a bit of a flourish given to the first letters of the given and surname. Not too much flourish—just enough. The bold, strong, signature of a confident man.

Prepared for the worst, Harry mounted the attractive dun mare. It hurt so bad that he knew he wouldn't be able to hold on if she moved before he was settled in the saddle. Fortunately, she didn't. He hurt in places that he would swear had nothing to do with riding.

Although still full of piss and vinegar, the mare named Milady was more manageable than Latigo had been. Harry liked her immediately. Although now that he understood Latigo, he was also fond of him. He saw that Niall was riding him today, and he was pulling the same pranks that he had with Harry. Niall was so relaxed and easy in the saddle that he looked almost bored with the gelding's shenanigans. Short of a major earthquake, Harry doubted if anything got a rise out of these easy going cowboys.

There was much to learn. Johnny informed him that they had a few tractors they sometimes used, and a couple of ATVs when needed. Louis preferred to use horses as much as possible, as his father had, but sometimes the job went quicker and easier, and was more practical with machinery.

Johnny told him about how they rotated pastures so the grass could be given an opportunity to regrow after being grazed down. He explained how they grew hay, showing Harry the hay field. It wasn't grown in abundance, but was there if the need arose, and was only for their own stock. They weren't in the business of selling hay. The underground irrigation made the grass grow and flourish, so they didn't often have to resort to supplemental feeding. The breeding mares got grain, and so did the riding horses, but for the most part, the cattle did fine on the grass.

The mares were bred in late spring or summer so that they would have spring foals for the next year. The cattle were reproductive all year round with the ideal birthing being anywhere from February through May. The calves were branded, vaccinated and castrated at two to three months of age. They were sold when they got up to around 450 pounds. The ranch ran approximately 700-1,000 head of cattle at all times. Now Louis understood why spring and summer were by far the busiest seasons. It was when everything of significance was happening.

The ranching business didn't make Louis rich, Johnny explained, but he sure wasn't hurting either. He was able to live comfortably without having to worry like so many of the other ranch owners that didn't have underground irrigation, or the quality of Louis' stock.

Today the ranch hands rode quite a way out, and it was a typical Texas spring day, according to Johnny. Bluebonnets surrounded them, and the horses kicked up the reddish dust that seemed to settle on everything. The sky was cloudless, and the early morning chill soon gave way to a mild warmth that soothed Harry's aching body somewhat. He felt it clear down to his bones. The raw spots on the insides of his knees felt better now that he was in the saddle for some obscure reason.

The cattle were Herefords, explained Johnny, a hardy breed with a good disposition, and were raised for beef. There were also a few Angus that Louis was considering breeding with Brahmans to create Brangus, another popular beef breed.

Harry asked why the Angus had no horns, and Johnny explained they were born naturally hornless. The Herefords had horns, but they were angled downward, toward the ground, and therefore less dangerous to the horses and people when they needed to be wrangled.

Harry also learned that the Texas Longhorns were seldom seen anymore. They were beautiful animals, but their hides were tough, and they had unpredictable dispositions, making them a threat with those huge, formidable horns they were so well known for.

The men scouted the various herds in different pastures, looking for animals with illnesses or injuries. They discovered a few with pink eye, and Louis and his horse Joaquin smoothly cut these animals away from the others so they could be treated.

Harry was amazed at how fast Joaquin was. He spurted into a tremendous burst of speed from a standstill with one word from Louis. He accelerated faster than any horse Harry had seen outside of a rodeo, into a dead run within seconds. One moment, they were there, and the next, horse and rider had completely vanished into a cloud of red dust. But when cutting the cattle away from the herd, Louis and Joaquin moved slowly and deliberately, so as not to spook the cattle.

The cattle that were to be treated were driven through a gate and into a small corral where they would be roped by two cowboys, one on each side, and held fast for a third cowboy to move in and apply eye ointment. Then they were let up again. The whole process only took a bare minute or so for each animal.

Harry concentrated on watching how the cowboys swung and settled their ropes cleanly over the animal's horns. The one Angus that had no horns was roped around the neck. It looked so easy. A good roper, Johnny didn't have to swing the rope over his head more than once. They must all be good ropers though, because it seemed any one of them could drop a loop on just about anything they wanted to with little effort. But Johnny and Louis stood out as the most accomplished with a rope. They'd both had many years of experience. The steer's neck, horn, or hind leg all seemed to be equally easy for them. And they seldom missed.

It seemed the end of the day would never arrive. After lunch, the afternoon seemed to drag on much longer than the morning had. And having Louis riding ahead of him tempted Harry to drink him in, even as bone tired as he was. Louis seemed to command Harry's attention by just breathing. When they stood side by side doing some task after dismounting, Harry was hyper aware of Louis' every breath. It was quite disconcerting.

"Get busy, chop chop!" chirped Louis on more than one occasion when Harry was tentative about doing something, for fear he'd do it wrong. Most of the time, Harry did manage to get the job done well enough for Louis' nod of approval.

Louis laughed and joked with the others a few times, and Harry realized it was mostly his own presence that had caused the rancher to be more contrary than usual. The others truly seemed to like Louis, and he treated them as equals. Harry, feeling slightly envious, hoped that someday he'd be able to have this same easy, relaxed relationship with Louis that they had.

They checked more fences—there never seemed to be an end to the myriad of fences and gates everywhere. Niall and Nick began distributing grain to some pregnant mares and mares with foals at their sides. Johnny hadn't been kidding when he'd said there were plentiful chores. The tasks that needed to be done were continual and vast.

When at last they rode in at dusk, Nick soon came galloping in from a far pasture where he had been graining the mares, pulling his horse to a sliding stop.

"Boss! Monique is foalin,' and I think she's in trouble."

Without missing a beat, Louis re-cinched his saddle he'd just been preparing to pull off his horse, and took off after Nick at a full gallop. As tired, sore and dirty as he was, Harry looked to Johnny with concern.

"Should I go help?" Maybe I can do something."

"No, Harry. If Louis wants help, he'll send Niall or Nick in. If it's bad, he'll send for the vet. He has lots of experience foalin' mares." Harry couldn't imagine how Louis could find the energy after the grueling day he'd had, but then again, he was used to it, he supposed. And obviously very dedicated.

Niall rode in shortly after that, stating that Louis and Nick would tend to the mare. Louis had told Niall to go back and eat dinner.

After Harry, Johnny and Niall had eaten, and Harry had showered, he saw Johnny mount up on Cactus and ride toward the mare barn. After a couple of hours, Harry had stopped watching for him to come back. Every muscle, ligament and tendon in his entire body felt stretched to the limit, as if ready to snap.

When nine o'clock rolled around, Louis and Johnny were still with the mare. Nick had returned a little while ago. Louis hadn't even had dinner. Harry thought about making him a plate, but knew they just didn't do things that way. Louis would probably be insulted. He was doing his job, and wouldn't eat until it was done. Feeling impotently guilty, Harry went to bed.

Some hours later, dozing off now and then for short periods, Harry continued to listen for Louis and Johnny. Harry was concerned with what was happening in the mare barn. Finally, Harry heard them ride up to the bunkhouse. He glanced at the clock to see it was one a.m.

The next morning at breakfast, Louis was missing. No one said anything, and Harry would have felt foolish asking where he was, so he kept quiet. No one else seemed concerned, so they must have known his whereabouts.

After the cowboys and Cookie cleared out of the bunkhouse, Harry was preparing to step outside when the door opened. Harry didn't need to look up to know who it was. Louis. It could be no one else. The man had so much presence that Harry could _feel_ him.

Harry finally looked up slowly. There was a strange feeling sliding over him, creeping into him. The silence was thick. Funny how Louis had entered the bunkhouse right on cue, just before Harry was going to leave. The timing had been perfect.

Louis returned Harry's stare, and Harry couldn't seem to look away, although he tried several times. His eyes just kept bouncing back, over and over.

Louis' shirt sleeves were rolled up to reveal hard, corded forearms dusted with dark gold hair. They flexed when he cupped his hands behind his head to stretch with fatigue. His back must be terribly sore. Transfixed, Harry watched on. Just seeing this much of his body was almost too much, but then he saw the top two buttons were undone on Louis' shirt, and just could not keep himself from gazing at the vee in front where a very enticing sprinkling of gold hair was revealed.

Harry wished feverishly that he could find just one thing about the rancher that was not desirable, and he knew there had to be _something,_ but he had yet to discover it.

When he was finished stretching, Louis began to unfasten the remaining buttons of his shirt. Harry was so enthralled, so caught up that he had trouble expanding his lungs with oxygen. _There was no oxygen in here, period._

Louis casually slipped his shirt off. Now, Louis lived in the main house, so Harry had never seen him getting undressed for bed. The muscle and sinew rippling as Louis threw the shirt into the laundry bin for the housekeeper had Harry nearly drooling.

Funny, but for the duration, Louis never took his eyes off Harry's. Surely this was not normal behavior between two men, and Harry didn't know what to do. Should he smile? Frown? Look away?

Louis felt a strange pride swelling in his chest. _This guy was checking him out._ And oddly, Louis liked it. He was pleased with the fact that Harry seemed to be enchanted with his body. He saw every emotion that flickered across the lad's face. Harry's face was too readable, his reaction a little too conspicuous. He sure needed work on his poker face.

Louis wasn't the least bit shy about undressing in front of the hands. But he was sure of their sexuality. Harry was another story. Having Harry's steady gaze on him made him feel just a little self-conscious.

Did the lad find him wanting, or even worse, disgusting?

Louis had been mighty impressed with how Harry had conducted himself with the ranch horses. He'd kept his cool, hadn't panicked the way Louis had thought he would. The lad had been telling the truth, at least about knowing how to ride. He had the basic knowledge, Louis could tell from how he sat the saddle, handled the reins. The lad had worked the problems through not only with the horses but also when he'd attempted fence repairs with nary a complaint. Louis admired that.

And the fact that it looked as if Harry was admiring _his body_ was almost too disquieting for him to bear, even after the long night of almost no sleep. Louis began to tingle. No, better not go there. . .

After the mare had finally foaled, Louis had come back to the bunkhouse to tie his horse, then the main house to grab a quick bite to eat of the food Cookie had left for him, then had gone back out to the barn and slept on the floor right outside the mare's stall for the final couple of hours before it was time to start the new day. There had been no further trouble with the mare and colt. The mare had had a tough time, and was pretty exhausted. He'd wanted to be sure she'd have enough energy to care for her foal properly.

Harry woke up as if from a dream after absorbing and lusting over that naked chest that was heavenly and masculine, having no idea how long he'd been staring when he realized his curious eyes had drifted lower and lower, past the enticing line of hair that grew over Louis' flat, rippled belly and continued under his navel, to disappear into his snug jeans.

And that was where he really got himself into hot water. He had foolishly looked a bit lower, and had encountered the view of a very impressive bulge.

His eyes flew back up, and saw that Louis had been watching his roving eyes. And from the look in his eyes, Louis knew just what Harry had been looking at.

Hot blood surged into Harry's cheeks, pounded in his temples, and suddenly the temperature in the bunkhouse seemed to rise twenty degrees. Harry was so embarrassed, he felt sick. A man had never caught him looking _down there_ before. Actually, he'd never really had the urge to look. Until now.

Unfairly, mercilessly against his will, Harry's eyes betrayed him. They took on a life of their own, settling this time on the other man's biceps. The solid muscle on tanned skin quickened his breath. That muscle was born of hard manual labor, and it had to be the most desirable thing Harry had seen to date.

Louis was not overly tall; average really. About five nine; but he somehow made Harry, who was a couple of inches taller, feel insufficient, insignificant. Small. Louis' personality and bearing were impressive and big as life. Harry, next to him, felt quite bland and inadequate.

It was interesting, Harry thought to himself. Louis seemed to have the arrogant attitude only when he was taunting the younger man in his quiet, lethal way. He hardly ever gave the impression of cockiness around his men when he was working. That was when he was all business, serious and committed.

But right now, Harry felt as if he had better make tracks before Louis' very intensity unraveled something unnamed from within. He felt a surge of the danger of loss of control creeping up on him. Neither had yet uttered a single word. Harry had wanted to ask about the mare, but didn't trust his voice.

Right about then, Louis began to leisurely unbutton, and then unzip his jeans just as offhandedly as he'd unbuttoned and shed his shirt. Even though Harry was six feet away, he recoiled as if Louis had touched him with a branding iron. He wasn't going to undress _right in front of him,_ was he? Harry wasn't sticking around long enough to find out—that was for sure.

Harry fairly flew out the door without a backward glance. Sure, Louis was going to take a shower, which was perfectly logical, but still . . .

Louis chuckled quietly to himself as he slipped his jeans off and stepped into the shower. He had called Harry's bluff. He was testing the lad, _again._ He wasn't really sure why, either. Why was he making Harry feel wretched? Was he wanting to terrorize the Cheshire lad, or was he on a mission to see if Harry was gay? He had a suspicion he was doing the latter, and that suspicion grew stronger all the time.

Another man undressing in front of him should not have flustered Harry like that. The lad had looked at him much like a young girl would look at a desirable man that was threatening to get naked in her presence. A man she thought was sexy, but also terrifying.

Louis was glad Harry had left when he had, because if he hadn't, Louis would have had to go through with it. Remove his jeans, that is, and in his condition . . . . Well, he was every bit as hard as he'd been much too often for the last two days. Ever since Harry had started working there.

 _Why the hell was he hard?_ He tried to cajole himself into the idea that he was just tired of work and no play, and just happened to be horny, it having nothing to do with Harry, because he didn't want to entertain any other possibilities. Still, he'd have loved to see the look on young Styles' face if he had exposed himself completely. But in the final analysis, he didn't think he would have had the nerve.

Harry was so distressed after the scene with Louis in the bunkhouse that he could hardly answer Johnny when the man asked which horse he would be riding. Since Louis wasn't there to do what he was best at—order him around, even about the horse he rode, he asked for either Latigo or Milady, whichever wasn't going to be ridden by someone else. He ended up with Latigo, which suited him fine.

And Johnny had been right—he was even more sore than yesterday. But even as sore as he was, it was with great relief that Harry rode out with the other hands, leaving Louis far behind to take his shower.

Latigo was frisky, but now that Harry knew he wouldn't go totally ballistic on him, he mimicked the others and let the horse cavort and do his thing until he quieted down. After his late night, Harry assumed Louis would not be joining them today. Good—Harry didn't want to face him after Louis had made him look like a shy blushing schoolgirl in the bunkhouse.

"Damn, Johnny. That Angus bull is rammin' the fence again, tryin' to get to them heifers," Niall implored Johnny with pleading eyes. "Last time I fixed the fence he broke, the son of a bitch almost got me."

Johnny, exhibiting his signature mellow nature, smiled at Niall to reassure him. "We'll put a hot wire up tomorrow. Jus' remind me. That should slow him down a little."

Harry looked at the bull in question. Somehow, it seemed an electrical wire wouldn't have much effect on this bad boy. He'd probably plow right through it without feeling a thing. What a huge, magnificent animal he was. Coal black, his short, powerful neck arched, he pawed and snorted, shaking his massive head to prove how macho he was.

"I thought Angus were supposed to be gentle," he said to Johnny.

"They're more gentle than a lot of others. But you can never trust bulls of any breed. And that guy's 'specially onery. He's caused all kind of ruckus ever since he came here. I think Louis' thinkin' of sellin' him, and keepin' breeding rights. He ain't worth the trouble he stirs up."

"How do you handle him?" Harry could just imagine the kind of fuss the enormous animal would be capable of putting up if restrained in any way.

"We don't. We jus' herd him where we want him to go, or if he's real cantankerous, we jus' leave a gate open 'til he goes in by himself." Johnny let go a hearty belly laugh. "Once, Nick got too close to him while he was tryin' to get him into another corral, and he went for Nick jus' like them bulls do in Mexico that they use for bull fightin.' Head down, bellowing, runnin' wide open. Nick was runnin' as fast as he could, and when he got to the fence, he dove plumb over it, head first. Ever'body got a good laugh outta that."

Harry could just picture it. Quiet mild natured Nick running at top speed to escape the bull. He wished he'd seen it in person.

Today Harry actually mended some fences on his own, with supervision, of course. He pounded nails and held boards steady for the other cowboys. He learned how to manipulate the heavy wire without crushing his fingers.

Barely an hour after they'd ridden out, Louis rode up on Joaquin. Harry's stomach flipped. He should have known he wouldn't go to bed after his all-nighter. He might miss out on something—like an opportunity to bash Harry for doing something the slightest bit wrong. Damn, it had been so peaceful without him.

Johnny had informed Harry that the mare and foal were doing fine, the mare having recovered nicely from her ordeal, so there really wasn't any reason Louis couldn't have gotten a few hours of sleep. But no—he had to be out here like some superhuman who can operate on no sleep, and nothing but hard work. _Superman_ . . . that's who he reminded Harry of.

Harry avoided looking into Louis' eyes, afraid of what he might see. Harry hadn't told anyone he was gay, so perhaps he'd made a mountain out of a molehill. He'd probably just imagined Louis had been taunting him.

So what if Louis got undressed in front of him? It shouldn't have been any big deal. And it wouldn't have been, had Harry been straight and not attracted to Louis. There was no way though, that Louis hadn't noticed the way Harry had escaped out of the bunkhouse as if it had been on fire.

Harry could kick himself for not handling it more maturely, and more importantly, handling it like a _straight_ man. Had Louis sensed Harry was gay? No, of course not. If he had, he surely wouldn't be undressing in front of him, because it was exceedingly clear to Harry that Louis was as straight as an arrow.


	12. Chapter 12

Maybe Louis had just been playing with him, giving him a hard time. Trying to shock him, because Louis knew Harry was pretty strait-laced. Well, now Harry was mad at himself for not handling it differently; he shouldn't have allowed Louis to see him so disconcerted.

Louis, in the meantime, felt a little guilty for what he'd done. If Harry were to be gay, Louis' actions had been very inappropriate. He hadn't really taken his pants off, just teased Harry with the possibility. But this wasn't enough to assuage his guilt. It had tickled his funny bone at the time, but now that he saw Harry's passive avoidance of his gaze, it didn't seem quite so funny. For some reason, being in Harry's presence made him act like a real heel. An ass, in fact.

Harry did a remarkable job on the fences that day. Louis had to admit to himself it was unequaled for someone so green. Harry had impressed him, and Louis wasn't easily impressed. Harry had thrown his all into his work, had held nothing back, and quickly corrected any mistakes he had made.

"Good lad, well done," Louis said to his curly haired employee, who looked stunned at his words.

As Louis squatted down and finished the bottom part of the fence, Harry basked in the praise. This was the first time Louis had had any words of approval since he'd met the rancher. So, perhaps the man wasn't made out of granite after all.

Louis rose from the ground with feline-like grace, and Harry appreciated and took pleasure in the sight. He absorbed every move, recording it in his brain to enjoy again later. Unfortunately, Louis caught Harry in that unguarded moment. Harry's cheeks flushed tomato red again. Louis looked away suddenly, as if he hadn't seen Harry's reaction. Damn, but Harry was grateful for that.

By the time Friday rolled around, Harry was toughening up. The blisters were beginning to callous over, and he wasn't quite as sore at the end of the day. Just very, very tired. The mornings came so early that it often seemed that he'd just fallen asleep when the bunkhouse alarm went off.

Shadow Bear, the German Shepherd, had taken a real shine to Harry, sleeping below his bunk every night. He often saved a few scraps from his dinner for the dog, and the two of them developed a very close relationship. The cook lightheartedly complained that the dog was not eating her usual amount of dog food. Secretly though, he was glad to see how well Harry was fitting in and adjusting to the job.

Johnny could have told Louis that he'd known Harry would work out from the beginning. Harry was a real scrapper, and very driven. Johnny had an eye for that kind of thing though. He'd been involved in ranch work for most of his life, and had seen many bad eggs come and go. Harry was not one of them. He was a keeper.

According to Louis, they had accomplished quite a bit this week, so he had decided they would get the entire weekend off. This brought a few earsplitting "Yee-haws!" from the hands. Harry couldn't help but wonder if his boss was doing it in part because he felt Harry needed two days to rest up from his first week. But of course, if that were really the case, Louis would never admit it aloud.

Ever since their bunkhouse incident, Louis seemed to keep his distance. He gave Harry orders like he did the others, but avoided getting any closer to Harry than he absolutely had to. Harry felt the sadness once again that their relationship couldn't be easy the way it was with himself and Johnny. With Johnny, it came so naturally. With Louis, every exchange seemed to be a little bit strained.

 _Patience_ , he reminded himself.

Louis' loyalty to the ranch and its occupants, and his willingness to do whatever it took to make the ranch run smoothly was highly commendable. Harry admired that. He had to admit he'd acquired a good boss who didn't take ownership of the ranch lightly. These ranch hands didn't want for anything as long as they fulfilled their responsibilities.

But what was disturbingly creepy was the fact that his appeal was not wearing off, as Harry had hoped it would. If anything, Louis became ever more attractive to Harry as time went on. When Louis' temperament was easy, effortless and genuine it ignited sparks of desire in Harry that threatened to throw him off course while on the job. But Louis was also often difficult, and this helped to temper Harry's yearning. But not enough.

Just a simple gesture, offered in complete innocence would start the heat in Harry's belly and the tightening within his jeans. Then it would fan outward to envelop the rest of his body until he fairly quivered with it. Harry tried not to leer, but Louis was just so damn hot.

The swing of a rope over Louis' head, a careless, uninhibited laugh shared with his men, his slightly crooked smile in response to something someone said. Too bad none of those special smiles was meant for him.

And every once in a while, Harry would catch Louis grinning, and it was pure sin; conscious yet careless at the same time. At those times, Harry would have given his eye teeth to know what the rancher was thinking about.

After dinner that Friday evening, when everyone was showered and were sitting outside enjoying the warm spring evening, Johnny approached Harry with his usual sunny smile. Niall was sprawled in a hammock slung between two trees, and Nick was prone on one of the benches, chewing a blade of grass.

Louis was leaning against the front of the bunkhouse in that deceptively languid, sexy way Harry found irresistible, while smoking and keeping Harry in the edge of his vision as he gazed out at the mustang in the corral. His thumbs were hooked into his front pockets between drags of his cigarette, his fingers resting near his groin, and it was all Harry could do not to let his eyes stray to that region. He'd learned his lesson about that. Looking at his boss' body was addicting, and it was like trying to swim to shore against a tidal wave once he gave in to the urge to look.

There were a few benches, and Harry sat on one that hugged the front of the bunkhouse on the wooden porch, about ten feet to Louis' right. When Johnny walked up to the curly haired lad, Louis' senses went on alert, his ears perked, although you wouldn't know he had even noticed if you'd looked at him.

"Have you thought about pickin' your own personal horse?" Johnny asked Harry.

Harry considered the older man's comment. Actually, he'd been so busy with work every waking hour all week that he hadn't had time to think about much of anything.

"No, Johnny. I haven't really. When do I need to choose one?"

"Ah, there's no hurry. I was jus' curious was all. Do you have a favorite?"

"Not really. To be truthful, I fancy all horses. But no, I haven't, like, felt that special bond with one yet."

Harry could see Louis in his peripheral vision, quietly smoking and listening. Harry knew he was eavesdropping because he was tilting his head ever so slightly to the side Harry was on, and he always displayed that behavior when he was concentrating on something.

"Well, there's a guy that comes out this way a few times a year. He brings horses for sale with him. In fact, he's due out next month. Maybe you'll find one in his bunch that you like. Otherwise, keep in mind that any of the riding stock is up for grabs, 'cept fer the ones that're spoken for, like Cactus and Joaquin."

"Why do you buy horses from this guy?"

"We don't have much time to break our own. They're usually sold anyway by the time they're yearlings or two year olds. And most of the older ones are breedin' stock; the majority of those ain't broke. This guy has broke horses that he takes around to all the ranches to sell. He does pretty good business 'cause horses have to be replaced all the time on ranches, what with some gettin' too old to work, or somethin.' We been doin' business with him for lotsa years, and we kin trust him. Some of the horses he has are green and need work, but they're all sound. An honest horse trader is hard to come by these days. Most of the ridin' stock we have now came from him."

"Did you get Cactus from him?"

"Shore did. He warned me about him bein' temperamental too. He'll tell ya all he knows about the horses, good or bad."

"Maybe I'll wait for him to come by then. How many horses does he usually bring?"

"He's got a big ass stock trailer that holds 'bout fifteen horses. We get first pick 'cause he comes here first."

"How much does he charge, on average?"

"Oh you don't gotta worry 'bout that. The ranch pays for any horses we get. Louis incorporated that rule. If you pick a horse, it's yours forever, even if you quit. It comes with the job."

Harry's heart swelled, as he realized his dream was coming true. How long had he wanted his own horse? For almost as long as he could remember. And now he was finally going to get one.

Harry wondered what he would do with his two days off. Would he go into town or stay on the ranch? Johnny had offered to give him roping lessons, and they decided to start on Saturday morning with the basics: mainly to familiarize Harry with a rope and how to care for it and then how to handle it.

A little later on, Harry strolled around the various corrals and paddocks, looking the horses over. He hadn't really had time to do this leisurely since he'd gotten here. It had all been work. There were several attractive, gentle horses that caught his eye, but that extra special something was missing.

He knew he'd know it when he found the right one. It was kind of like falling in love—it couldn't be forced.

 _As if he'd know what falling in love felt like._ A sardonic grin crossed over his face. Love just didn't seem to be in the cards for him. Not with a human being. Animals were better anyway, he mused, scratching Shadow Bear's head as she wandered around with him.

It was a luxury to be able to just do whatever he wanted, but also very strange. He knew he would feel guilty tomorrow, like he should be working. It would feel great to get to sleep in tomorrow morning. Johnny said the hands always did on their days off, since they were few and far between. All except Louis. Johnny said he never slept past seven. That wasn't much of a surprise to Harry.

Harry decided he'd also call his mum, Audrey and Tish tomorrow and tell them all about his new job. He'd been calling them every day or so, but hadn't gone into detail about anything. They would appreciate it—especially his mum. She'd be intrigued with hearing everything his job entailed. He smiled, knowing she'd have a thousand questions.

Up until now, he had been so tired that his only thoughts had been work, eating and sleeping, except for one distraction—Louis.

Monday they would begin spring roundup. That was sure to be interesting. And Harry realized he'd be sore all over again as a result. Johnny had informed him there were a couple hundred calves that they would have to sort, then drive them into pens where they would be roped, vaccinated, castrated if needed and branded. It caused a curl of excitement in Harry's middle. He was really looking forward to it. Every little bit of knowledge and skill he acquired would hopefully make him look a little more adept in Louis' eyes. Oh, and also make him a more well-rounded person.

Saturday morning, Louis hired another hand to help with the roundup. He said they should be able to get by with just the six of them. Harry knew he wouldn't be a whole lot of help this year. By the time he'd had a chance to learn it all, it would pretty much be finished. Still, he'd do his proper best.

The new hired hand was a young man of twenty. He looked a little too small and scrawny to Harry to be capable of the back breaking work, but then Johnny had told Harry that sometimes the smaller ones surprised you with a lot more strength than you would expect. They were often also quick and agile.

Johnny said Leonard, the new hand, had ranch knowledge and had worked for a couple years for a ranch in Montana. Watching him riding around that morning, trying out horses and practicing his roping skills convinced Harry just how deceiving outward appearances could be. Leonard suddenly looked to be more than capable of handling livestock, and he sure could handle a rope.

After everyone had eaten breakfast, Harry stood mesmerized, watching Louis work with the mustang in the corral where it had been housed all week. He was encouraging the horse to circle him, and talking to it in his unique voice in a very soothing tone. When, less than an hour later, he was finally able to approach the animal and slowly stroke its neck, Harry could hear him baby talking to it. That was one thing he thought he'd never hear from the rancher's lips! Imagine that—Louis Tomlinson baby talking!

Harry was amazed at this softer side of the man that he apparently tried to hide. Louis really opened Harry's eyes about human nature. He revealed a surprise around every corner. He seemed to be multi-faceted and complicated.

Slowly, gradually, Louis began to run his hands all over the nervous mustang's body. He always halted when the horse began to fidget, or try to kick, then began again when the mustang lowered his head slightly—a sign that the animal was relaxing. Approach and retreat, approach and retreat. Louis did this tirelessly until the young horse unknotted his tight muscles, at last considering that maybe Louis wasn't a threat.

Once again, Harry felt warmth roll over his body. The rancher was only being himself, doing things he did routinely on the ranch. But his every move shouted out to Harry that couldn't have been more distinct than a trumpet's blast, or more obvious to Harry's eyes than the bright, warm spring sun that shone down and bounced off the shine of Louis' head of caramel mixed with toffee colored hair. Louis had removed his hat so as not to spook the horse, and the unruly waves spilled down over his forehead and over his collar.

Johnny appeared next to Louis so unexpectedly that he jolted. Johnny looked past Harry at Louis in the corral, then his eyes shifted back to Harry, twinkling. Harry felt himself blush, hoping the older cowboy hadn't noticed how entranced he had been with Louis' manner and self-assurance. Johnny, he knew, was pretty perceptive.

The roping lesson went better than they'd both anticipated. Harry was wholly relieved to find he was not as clumsy with a rope as he was with a lot of other things. Johnny showed him the different weights and types of ropes, and advised him which type was best for which jobs.

Each cowboy, he said, had a favorite rope, and a new one took quite a while to break in just the way the cowboy preferred it. He gave Harry a rope to practice with, and soon he was trying in vain to drop a loop on every fence post he came within roping distance of.

There were plenty of objects to practice on around the ranch, and now he understood why the cowboys were often seen roping everything from the dog to another moving cowboy. Practice makes perfect. At the moment, Harry could hardly seem to lasso stationary objects, but Johnny assured him he'd be nabbing moving objects as well in no time at all.

"It's all in the wrist. Remember to snap it like I showed you." Johnny had the patience of a saint, Harry thought as he asked the older man question after question about his style and delivery, and where he was deficient. He was coming along, Johnny assured him. But Harry's accuracy was sorely lacking. It was painfully obvious that the rope landed on its target less than once in ten tries.

"It's only yer first day. Jus' keep practicin' every chance you get. It'll take weeks to see much improvement. Then you can start practicin' on movin' targets."

Yeah, right. If Harry could only stop tangling himself up in the rope, that would be a big improvement in and of itself. His respect for these cowboys just kept growing.

After practicing for a couple of hours, his arms were weak and practically shaking from fatigue, so he abandoned the rope for the time being and walked out to the corral where Louis was still working with the mustang. Fascinated, he walked slowly so as not to distract or frighten the animal. Louis saw him walk up near the fence, but he did not acknowledge Harry's presence.

He was currently running his hands down the horse's legs, and Harry felt his breath hitch at the gentle way the man handled the animal. His capable fingers almost caressed the horse's hide, which quivered. Harry was certain his own hide would quiver if Louis touched him, but definitely not from fear. Best not to dwell on that . . .

It was interesting to Harry how Louis could be so rough and tough when the job called for it, yet be so gentle and tender with the skittish mustang. His crooning voice just barely reached his ears as Louis kept up a steady monologue meant to soothe the horse. It worked.

Within another half an hour, Louis, through much trial and error, had the mustang haltered and was leading him around the corral. He had taught the animal to lead in just a few minutes by gently pulling the lead rope at an angle until the horse shifted his feet to maintain his balance. When he did, Louis let go of the tension. He kept repeating this until the mustang understood that when he moved his feet forward, the rope would be instantly loosened.

Harry was becoming a little giddy and unsteady. Obviously, Louis knew how to be gentle, and for some reason, the thought caused sparks of delight and anticipation to bound along Harry's nerves, making no sense at all to Harry. The only thing it could possibly make was that he was lusting after his boss. He had to keep reminding himself that Louis was straight. But tell his cock that . . . The frustration Harry felt was massive.

He wasn't a shallow person. He liked Louis as a whole. It wasn't just desire. It was also Louis' honest, upfront nature that attracted him. Trying to make sense of it all was endlessly perplexing to Harry.

He had just decided to wander elsewhere to try to cool his libido down when he heard a strange noise. It was sort of a rushing sound, something he couldn't remember ever having heard before. There was something in the distance that caught his eye.

Well, it wasn't _that_ far in the distance; in fact, it was quite close, and rapidly closing in. It was a huge, spiraling red splotch that looked suspiciously like a tornado to Harry's untutored eyes. He had never seen a tornado, but imagined this was what one must look like.

Terror struck quite unexpectedly and instantly when he realized the red funnel was heading directly for the ranch. In fact, it looked to be coming right at him.

"Oh!" Harry cried, and slapped his palm over his mouth. Whatever it was, it was huge, and becoming more enormous the closer it got.

Louis, hearing his exclamation, broke his intense concentration with the training to peer over at him, then turned and looked in the direction that seemed to be paralyzing Harry. Realizing in an instant that Harry had never experienced a dust storm before, he easily vaulted over the corral fence and closed the distance between them in seconds.

By now, the dust storm was almost upon them. Harry was terrified, and in his unreasonable state, tried to run. He didn't know where he was going, but instinct would not let him just stand there and let this awful _thing_ destroy him. He had visions of it shredding him to bits. Or maybe lifting and spinning him high above the ground, like in the Wizard of Oz.

But Louis was faster than he. He grabbed Harry's shoulders firmly, pulling him to a halt.

"Louis! A tornado!" Harry's voice had become high-pitched and quite unmanly in his hysteria.

Louis bright blue gaze met his. "No, no Harry. It's not. It's okay. Really it is. Just a dust storm. We have them all the time in Texas. It won't hurt you. Just relax."

No sooner were those words out of Louis' mouth than the air around them began to swirl and whip. And in the next instant, the dust storm was upon them. Harry heard himself cry out as if in a dream—a nightmare. Everything was surreal. It stung when the sand particles hit his flesh.

He was hardly aware of it in his panic, but he'd thrown himself at Louis, his arms wrapping tightly around Louis' waist. All he could see was dust—red dust. It was everywhere, inescapable, and he lost control. In a blind panic, he jerked and twisted, wrenching his body to try to get away from it all, but Louis calmly, effortlessly, held him fast.

It got worse before it got better. Just when Harry thought the dust could be no thicker, he realized he could hardly draw a breath. The dust was choking him. He was breathing dust, not air. Where was the oxygen?

"I can't breathe!" he yelled out at Louis, truly horrified. He was going to die, that's all there was to it. He coughed impotently. He couldn't go much longer without air.

Through his terror, Harry was dimly aware of Louis' strong, quiet voice, talking almost the same way he'd talked to the mustang. He even untied his bandana from around his neck and held it gently up to Harry's mouth and nose.

"Breathe through this. It'll help."

How could he possibly breathe through a bandana when he was already fighting desperately for breath? By this point, Harry couldn't even make noises any longer. The fear and struggling to breathe was draining him. He clung to Louis with all his might, his head buried in Louis' chest as if trying to hide would make the dust storm go away. Just staying alive was foremost in his mind. Surely, surviving this would be a miracle.

"It'll be over in no time. Don't worry." Louis' voice was all that kept Harry from totally losing it. And Louis didn't pull away from him either.

Slowly, his words began to get through to Harry. "Happens all the time. Just go with it."

How could he be so calm? Wasn't he afraid? But his words were starting to make sense. The ranch owner should know it wasn't dangerous—he lived here. And he had obviously lived through many of these . . . _things._

As the sand continued to lash at his face and neck, at some point Harry became hyper aware of Louis' body pressed tightly to his, his strong arms enfolding him. Rubbing his back with work-roughened hands. Talking so softly that a passerby wouldn't have been able to hear him.

And slowly Harry began to lose his fear. But it was replaced with something even more disturbing. Heightened awareness washed over him. Then, close on its heels, hot desire bulldozed him. Like magic, the nightmare turned into ecstasy.

The want was raw and undeniable. Sexual desire more overpowering and potent than he'd ever dreamed of in his wildest dreams. Louis was warm, so very warm. Hot . . . .so hot that his heat seemed to penetrate the younger lad's body.

The _last_ thing Harry wanted to do now was bolt. Couldn't bolt even if he'd wanted to. Louis' chest that his head nestled into was hard as a rock, unyielding, yet protective. Louis' embrace was solid. From chest to thighs, Harry felt every inch of him.

Harry could feel him breathing, and it left him in a trance that made him wonder if he'd be able to break free of its influence when this was over.

The dust storm seemed to go on forever. Like a California earthquake, thought Harry. Just a short time felt like an eternity. But somehow, he didn't want it to end. He knew why, although it was tough to admit it to himself. He didn't want to lose this physical contact with Louis. There would be no more excuse to remain plastered to him after it was over.

Trying to disguise his arousal, Harry welcomed the stolen pleasure, pretending to still be frightened—hating himself for faking it. Every touch from Louis was magnified many times. Harry took a deep breath and didn't seem to be able to exhale again. And not because of the dust.

"Lou! You and Harry alright?" Niall's voice cut into Harry's dream-like state like a sharp knife.

 _No! Not now! Leave us alone!_

He wanted to scream, yell, throw himself down in the dirt, have a royal fit. He and Louis drew back at the same time. Louis cleared his throat loudly, and let out a laugh that sounded just a little fabricated.

"We're okay, Niall. Harry just panicked. Never seen a dust storm before, and he practically tackled me!"

Harry breathed a sigh of relief at Louis' quick, clever answer that seemed convincing enough.

As reality stole its way back in, Louis almost hated Niall for spoiling the moment, plus resenting himself and his reaction combined, Harry used the dust storm as an excuse to lean against the corral fence to brace himself.

Johnny walked up. "You alright, Harry? If ya ain't never been in one before, dust storms can be right scary."

Sardonically, Harry thought to himself, _Not anywhere near as scary as my desire for Louis._


	13. Chapter 13

"Just freaked me out," Harry said to Johnny. He was hard put to sound off-hand. He was grateful to be able to blame the weakness, the dizziness Louis had caused on the dust storm. In a way, it had come in handy, had been worth the fright it had given him.

 _He'd been pressed up against Louis so close. And Louis hadn't drawn back. Hadn't recoiled._

Sure, the dust storm had shaken him up, but it could not compare to the profound potency he had felt in Louis' close proximity.

"Well, I'm glad Louis was near ya, 'cause I saw how scared you were, but I couldn't reach ya in time."

Had Johnny seen Harry hanging onto Louis at the end of the dust storm? Harry recalled Johnny had that furtive kind of sixth sense. He wondered if Johnny had any suspicions. Johnny always seemed to be the one to catch him staring at Louis, and that smug grin of his really did make Harry wonder if the older cowboy could see what Harry tried so hard to hide.

Louis couldn't get the dust storm out of his mind. Well, not the actual dust storm. He could have cared less about that; it was the way Harry had thrown himself at him, hugged him close. Louis had found himself frozen to the spot, somehow not capable of shoving Harry away from him. The way the lad had molded himself right up against him!

And he'd enjoyed it way too damn much. He'd gotten an erection. Had Harry felt it?

"Oh God," he muttered to himself after having gone into the bunkhouse to collect himself. The kid had an effect on him that was getting more and more difficult to deny.

Later that same evening, Harry was in the bunkhouse, dusting and cleaning it, glad to have something to do other than think about the embarrassment the dust storm had caused. His work performance had been his whole existence since he'd started working here, and he felt comfortable with it. Even so, he was tired from all the unaccustomed work. He'd decided not to go to town, but instead try to catch up on some rest. Maybe even take a nap.

He hummed contentedly to himself as he worked, trying to decide if he'd go into town tomorrow or watch Louis work with the mustang again. That would be borrowing trouble though. He'd better check the town out. That was a whole lot safer.

He'd had to take a shower after the dust storm. Every inch of his body had been covered with the gritty red stuff; even deep into his ears, and it had crunched between his teeth every time he closed his mouth. Some of the younger horses had spooked, and the cowboys had made the rounds to doctor minor cuts and scratches suffered when they had run into fences in an attempt to escape. The remuda was the exception. They were used to it and did nothing but snort a little.

Shadow Bear's tail thumped on the floor near Harry's bunk. Harry looked to see who she was happily greeting, and spied a shadow looming just outside the door. It was nearly dark now, but Harry wasn't worried because the dog obviously knew who it was.

A hand reached out and knocked at the partially open door, the owner's body still out of sight. It had to be Louis. That indecently firm, muscled forearm gave him away. Playfully, and without thinking, Harry grabbed his arm.

"Where's the rest of you?"

Louis appeared in the doorway then, and he actually smiled. Harry's heart just about melted.

"I wanted to make sure you were decent," Louis' impish grin made Harry laugh in spite of his embarrassment. It was a subtle reference to their previous encounter in the bunkhouse. But Louis' manner was easy and relaxed, so Harry recovered quickly this time.

"I'm just cleanin' a little. The dust storm even made its way in here."

"It got everythin,' it seems. And let the Nora do that—it's what she gets paid for. Hey, pretty girl!"

Harry looked at Louis in surprise and realized he was addressing Shadow Bear. He squatted down and rubbed either side of the dog's face with both hands.

"You and Harry are pretty tight, yeah?" He used that sweet, soothing voice with the dog that he had with the mustang.

Louis stood back up and Harry saw he was holding a paper bag. Louis reached into it and began to toss handfuls of candy bars onto Harry's bunk.

"Mr. Tomlinson! What are you doing?" at the same time, Harry was trying to suppress giggles of glee that hit him unexpectedly.

By the time the bag was emptied, there must have been close to twenty chocolate bars on his bed.

Harry had never seen this side of Louis before. Playful, and it was directed toward _him,_ not another ranch hand. Should he have felt honored? If not, then too bad, because he did.

"No more Mr. Tomlinson. Call me Louis from now on," the rancher said firmly. "Johnny mentioned you love chocolate, can't live without it, so when I went into town a little while ago, I picked 'em up."

Johnny had given away his secret! Bless him, because Harry's mouth was already watering.

Harry didn't know how to react. Was this Louis' peace offering after the bunkhouse scene?

"You shouldn't have gotten so many! And Johnny's givin' away me secrets!" Harry laughed so hard there were tears in his eyes.

"No harm in keepin' you supplied for a while. How long will this last? A couple of days?" His blue eyes twinkled with impishness.

To see Louis Tomlinson let loose and enjoy himself warmed Harry's heart and flooded it with a hard to describe contentment. Louis was finally not only acknowledging him as a person, but also acting more the way he did with the others. Relaxed and at ease.

Seeing this often solemn, serious , even gruff man enjoy himself without restraint made Harry feel pretty good about his lot in life. Louis lingered for a timeless moment, then turned and left the bunkhouse abruptly.

At first Harry was hurt at Louis' sudden departure, but there was probably good reasoning behind it, he concluded. Perhaps the boss man sensed Harry was gay, and didn't want to encourage Harry. But then, why had he brought him candy bars? Peace offering—that's all it was. Harry had been deathly afraid Louis would sense his "gayness" and the thought pestered him to no end. But he was likely overreacting, and Louis was just feeling guilty, and wanting Harry to be assured he had been well received at the ranch.

"Ride 'em, boss!" the hired hands encouraged Louis to mount the mustang. They craved some entertainment, something Louis managed to provide on a fairly regular basis. Johnny had explained it to Harry not that long ago, although now it seemed like ages. Wow, if it weren't for Johnny, Harry wouldn't have nearly the pile information on Louis that he did.

"I'm down for that! I'm buzzin!'" Louis and his smart ass remark, so cocky about riding the wild horse. Harry hadn't seen the rancher get himself into trouble since he'd been thrown that day he'd been leading the mustang while horseback, but Johnny had assured him there would be plenty of other incidents in the future.

The boss often bit off more than he could chew, yet failure never discouraged him for long. He seemed to relish testing his own limitations.

 _Have at it,_ thought Harry, knowing the man was evidently foolish enough to flirt with disaster, but yet still reluctantly fearful that his boss was going to get hurt. What could Harry do about it, anyway?

Louis talked softly to the quivering horseflesh whose thick leather reins he held in his hand.

"Quiet down, guys." That was all that was required. The respect these guys had for Louis was awesome. No one said another word. The cowboys remained perched on the top rail of the mustang's corral, not even a whisper escaping their lips.

Harry found himself fervently hoping that the pretty little mustang would accept Louis on his back. Louis eased just the toe of his boot into the stirrup repeatedly; then removed it altogether. Advance and retreat. Louis was also gauging the gelding's reaction while biding his time. Any stiffening or raising of the horse's neck indicated nervousness, and Louis would back off until he relaxed again.

He took special pains to be certain the little horse did not feel pressured in any way. Once again, Harry reflected on the unusual sensitivity underneath Louis' sometimes brusque manner.

When at last the mustang remained at ease even when Louis slapped the saddle strings together and patted the seat, snapping the leathers loudly and even tugging on the stirrups to desensitize the animal, he signaled that it was time for his first ride. The cowboys were now on full alert, and if Louis should be thrown, they would enter the corral and catch the mustang in case he panicked and accidentally trampled their boss while he was on the ground.

Harry held his breath as Louis inserted his boot into the stirrup and pulled himself up into the saddle, and light as a feather eased his other leg slowly over the cantle. Time stood still for a few seconds as the mustang froze, stiff-legged and tense. This was not a good sign. He could blow up at any second. Mustangs, being excellent buckers, often froze like this right before exploding. Louis had just enough time to ease his opposite foot into the stirrup when the mustang indicated he was growing very edgy.

Louis' hands on the reins remained rock steady as he urged the mustang to move forward.

"Walk," Louis commanded softly. The mustang knew the command from his previous lessons from the ground, but the extra weight on his back was what disconcerted him. He bucked a few times, and in spite of Harry's expectation that everyone would whoop and holler "ride 'em cowboy" as Louis rode out a torrential bucking session, none of that came about.

Louis, cool as a cucumber, got the mustang's head back up and helped the mustang balance himself despite the unfamiliar weight by allowing the horse to trot. After a few steps, the horse was hesitantly prancing around the perimeter of the corral.

"The sooner ya git 'em trottin,'the better," explained Johnny quietly to Harry. "It helps 'em to unwind and relax faster."

"Where did he get the mustang?" Harry whispered to Johnny.

"He caught him in the Apache Mountains 'bout fifty miles west of here. There are still some wild horses roamin' there, and Louis has a permit or somethin' like that with the BLM, and they allow him to catch whatever mustangs he wants. There's a problem with overpopulation of mustangs, so they don' mind. 'Bout once a year, Lou goes and camps out there, catches one, and then he brings it back here, breaks it, and sells it."

This sounded intriguing to Harry. So adventuresome, and he could so easily imagine Louis doing something like that. An opportunity of a lifetime, and Louis did it every year!

Johnny went on. "He makes a little extra money, but he don't really need the money, so I reckon he does it mainly 'cause he enjoys it."

Louis' eyes crinkled when he smiled as he passed the group of hands watching him. He was proud of his triumph, much as he tried to act nonchalant about it.

"How long does he stay there?" was Harry's next question.

"Ah, he stretches it out. Sometimes he stays two weeks. Uses extra time to gentle the mustang and jus' take it easy in general. He likes the quiet up there too, I s'pose."

"How does he eat?"

"One of us takes him and his horse food ever' four or five days. It's only 'bout a forty-five minute drive from here. There's a cabin there, and he even pitches a tent for his horse to sleep in, if happens to rain," Johnny smiled. "That horse is family to him. He builds a fire at night. Yeah, he's one of them people that needs to get away now and again, on a regular basis. He likes to listen to himself think."

"How does he catch the mustang?"

"He hides by a waterin' hole and waits for 'em to come and drink. Then he ropes one after it's full of water and cain't run as fast as they normally do. It's an old fashioned method, but it works if you know what yer doin.' It only works once, since the other horses won't come back to that waterin' hole after he catches one. Mustangs are smart devils. But that's okay, since one mustang is 'bout all one man can handle alone, anyway."

Harry wanted to know more, and planned on asking Louis all about his mustanging adventures when the opportunity came up.

Harry ended up staying on the ranch once again. It was already Sunday, and he craved a nap. So he actually took one, feeling less guilty when a couple of the others did the same.

It soon became painfully clear to Harry that Leonard, the newly hired ranch hand had a man crush on him. At first, he thought he was just hanging around him because he was unsure of his place among the men, and didn't feel completely accepted yet. But Harry also noticed Johnny took special pains to make the newcomer feel included and important, just as he had done with Harry. So there had to be another reason the young cowboy often followed Harry around.

It didn't take a genius to figure it out. Harry doubted Leonard was gay—he just apparently admired Harry and wanted to be like him. It was comical in a sense, as Harry knew Leonard had no idea he himself was gay.

At first, Harry was flattered by Leonard's attentions, although not at all interested in him in a romantic way, until Louis' reaction began to make him feel awkward and self-conscious when around Leonard. Louis' eyes watched Leonard like a hawk, not missing a single move the cowboy made. Could Louis actually be a little bit jealous?

It didn't seem possible, but that was definitely the vibe Louis emanated. The difference between Leonard and Louis could only be described as the difference between a boy and a man. There simply was no comparison.

While Leonard lacked the seasoned maturity and quiet self- control that marked a man, he was nonetheless charming, funny and a delight to associate with. His jokes were hilarious and he was naturally outgoing. Kind of like Niall. One day he would be a real lady killer. But he did absolutely nothing for Harry as far as a romantic interest. In fact, no one had to date—except Louis.

Leonard and Niall were still a bit coltish, with long pencil thin legs, and Harry began to encourage the two of them to become closer by spending time with both. It worked to some extent, but Leonard continued to idolize Harry for some reason.

While Harry was truly honored that Louis displayed a hint of possessiveness, it also bewildered him. Louis must surely have a horde of women coming on to him when he went into town.

"Okay, let's move!" Louis led the procession as the hands made their way out to the far pastures with the intent of gathering up all the calves for spring roundup. The much anticipated day had finally arrived. The men were anxious to get on with the job. They were expecting many more mares and cows to give birth in the coming days, and this was just one more chore to get behind them.

Leonard rode beside Harry on a young grey gelding that had quite a reputation on the ranch for being nearly incorrigible. The young man had chosen the horse for his gumption and the challenge he presented.

What was it about cowboys? Why choose a difficult horse for the roundup, of all things? As the gelding performed virtual airs above the ground, crow hopping along the way, Leonard smiled widely at Harry with obvious enjoyment. He and Niall were cutting up, but Louis seemed to be off in his own little world.

Already, Leonard was known as "Leo," a name Johnny had affectionately christened him with. And it did suit him, thought Harry. He was like a bold young lion in his fearlessness. And Harry also soon found out he had a serious work ethic.

They entered a pasture of dozens of cows and calves, Louis unlatching the gate without dismounting, Joaquin knowing exactly how to position himself to facilitate Louis opening and closing it. After the others had entered, Louis gave instructions to Harry, who was the only one who hadn't done this before.

"Stay back and just watch while we cut the calves from their mothers. You'll cause mass confusion if you spook the cattle."

Harry did as he was told, and was amazed to see how unobtrusively the cowboys coaxed the herd to do exactly what was required to ease the calves away. As if in silent communication, each cowboy took up a position, and slowly walked their horses into the herd so as to upset the animals as minimally as possible.

Things got a little hectic as the calves realized what was happening. They didn't take kindly to be separated from their mothers. That was when the ranch horses came to life. They cut and held the calves nearest Harry, by the gate. If an errant youngster tried to dash past to rejoin its mother, the horses worked on their own, blocking the calf's path so it was forced to remain where it was.

The cowboys were mostly just passengers when this happened, the horses working on a loose rein. Harry was astounded.

Several times a horse would have to dodge and lurch sideways with a roller coaster type of violence that Harry had no doubt he could not have endured. Now he could see that Louis had not been kidding when he had commented that Harry would not be able to stay on a cutting horse. As he had said, he would have been dumped on the first hard turn.

Harry had quite a time just keeping Milady quietly out of the way. The mare wanted to participate in the worst way, and Harry had his hands full just keep her standing still. Obviously, these horses loved their work. Johnny had mentioned that the horses were born with "cow sense." Now Harry saw what he had been talking about. It was a natural, inborn talent in these cutting horse bloodlines. Johnny had also said that a horse with no cow sense is almost worthless on a cattle ranch. It was hard to believe they hadn't been trained intensely—just fine-tuned to do a job they were bred to do.

Watching on as Leo expertly harnessed his mount's mischievous energy into usefulness, Harry could not help but be astonished. The kid was really talented. Louis, after the calves had been driven through the gate, gazed after the boy appreciatively while the other hands drove the bovines toward the ranch. He, Johnny and Harry were the only ones left at the pasture gate.

"You hired a good one, Lou. I ain't never seen such a young buck with so much know-how," Johnny's face was a study of admiration.

"Yeah, got lucky on this one. Lots of natural ability," was Louis' answer.

"I cain't hardly believe how he rides that son of a bitch he's on, let alone cuts on him." Johnny looked at Harry sheepishly, realizing Harry was listening.

"You'll get there," Johnny gently reminded Harry, who felt a little disposable at the moment.

Niall began cutting calves into a corral one by one to be branded.

"Now you can be of some help," Louis informed Harry as he sat his horse, watching the scene from a corner of the corral. The branding iron had been heated and was ready for the first calf. Louis asked Harry to be ready as soon as the calf was prepared. Louis had cleanly roped its neck while Johnny had neatly captured one of its hind legs with his own rope. It was now stretched out, prone between the horses, and Louis told Harry to go ahead and brand it.

With no prior instruction, panic set in. What if he hit the wrong spot? Or just as bad, what if the calf moved, and he smeared the brand? But Louis was taking no chances. He dismounted, indicating to his mount to keep the rope taut, and approached Harry to give directions.

If Harry had been able to watch a few brandings, he would have had some idea how to go about it, but as it was, he only had Louis' verbal instructions to follow. It wasn't much to go on, especially when there was no margin for error, and the target in question occasionally thrashed to try to free itself. So timing was also a priority. Catch it when it wasn't moving, hit just the right spot. Too much to concentrate on at once. Butterflies were whipping out of control in his stomach. Worse, all the other hands were watching.

Even worse than _that,_ Louis squatted behind him and instructed him over his shoulder as he knelt over the calf. Harry remembered where the brand had been placed on the older stock, so at least he had some idea of where to place it.

 _Here goes. Your first chance to impress the boss._

Right as Harry pressed the hot iron on the calf's hide, Louis shouted, "No! Farther back!" Too late. Even as Harry tried to correct it, he knew he was smearing the brand. But what else could he do? Louis was yelling at him, yet the brand had already made contact. There was no way to appease the boss now.

"Damn it to hell, Styles!" Signaling Johnny to shake his rope loose, Louis released the unfortunate calf with the royally messed-up brand that Harry was sure would be unreadable.

He felt crushed, and as he looked into the rancher's eyes that had turned dark azure with anger, remorse shook him clear to his boots, and even through his humiliation, Harry was amazed that he wished Louis' eyes had turned dark for another reason. A reason Louis didn't want to put a name to.

"I'm sorry, Louis. I've just not done it before. I needed to watch a few times first." His voice trembled with mortification.

In the blinking of an eye, Louis' gaze softened. "Shit, no, Harry. I'm the one who should be sorry. I keep forgettin' how green you are. I'm used to workin' with seasoned cowboys. Here, we'll try another. I'll actually help you this time."

The understanding in his voice floored Harry. He stayed where he was until another calf was roped and offered up. Louis dismounted as before, and this time he came up closer behind Harry. Close enough to touch him.

The hot, dirty, dusty circumstances were forgotten as an arrow of forbidden desire shot through every sensitive area of Harry's body. Louis' body heat at his back was intoxicating. The distraction was extreme, and Harry struggled to concentrate with this kind of temptation so close behind him. But it was important that he learned how to brand. He had to prove himself to Louis.

This time Louis put his hand over his and guided it to the calf's flank. Harry tried to ignore how steady Louis' hand was, how rough and warm. Electricity sparked up and down his arm just from the simple touch. It was hard to believe he would ever become as proficient at this as Louis, so confident.

The next few brandings without Louis' help terrified him, but he found he really could do it. Maybe not with the same precision that his boss had, but at least he didn't smear any more brands.

The others all took turns roping and branding, so Harry only branded about a dozen. The men then vaccinated the calves, something that took less than five seconds, and Harry excelled at, thanks to his previous job. But of course, he had to pass on the roping part. It would come with time, he kept telling himself.

"Okay, now you can castrate this one, it's a bull." Louis had a deadly serious look in his eye, and for a moment, Harry thought he really meant it. He gasped, afraid to admit he just didn't think he was quite ready for that yet. But before he could utter a word, Louis threw his head back and laughed heartily. Harry's heart got squishy yet again. He loved that laugh. Now he knew for sure Louis was no longer angry with him. Everything was going to be alright.

Harry could not get over the fact that, in spite of doing the surgery in the dirt, with no sterile instruments, no face masks and no stainless steel operating tables, the calves hardly ever developed infections from the castrations.

It was done in much the same way dogs and cats were done, on a larger scale, of course, and Harry was relieved when the cowboys let the calves back up, knowing they'd soon be back with their frantic mothers. As soon as they had finished with all the calves currently in the corral, the men would herd them out and bring a couple dozen more back to start all over again.

That first day they branded and vaccinated fifty-six calves. They could have breezed through many more, but the castrating took extra time. Harry figured they might be able to finish all the calves in a few days. It was stated that with Leo's skilled help, they were making very good time.

By the end of the day, everyone's faces were streaked with dirt, and dust coated every inch of exposed flesh, not to mention how it even made its way inside boots, shirts and jeans. Harry's back felt as though it would break if he ever bent over again.

The backs of his thighs ached from squatting down constantly, and his hands were red and blistered from gripping the branding iron and pulling countless ropes loose from the calves. The other ranch hands though, gave no indication of the type of exhaustion he was experiencing except that they were not as talkative after dinner.

Harry complimented Cookie on the delicious dinner of barbequed ribs, baked potatoes, green beans and biscuits. He had no idea what the cook's real name was, but he was called Cookie just like back in the old west days. He always blushed with pleasure when Harry praised his cooking. Harry had a feeling he didn't often get compliments, since the men were always so busy satisfying their fierce hunger that they seemed to think of little else at mealtimes. The chocolate cake for dessert rounded out an exceptionally filling meal.

Bone tired, Harry practically staggered to his bunk after his nightly shower. Even his scalp had been crusted with dirt. Shadow Bear followed dutifully in his footsteps. The morning would come early, and there would be more of the same thing to come.

Louis stepped in front of and blocked Harry just as Harry had rounded the corner of the bunkhouse, ready to go inside after having made sure, one last time, that his tack had been put away correctly. He knew how anal Louis was about that.

The closeness of their bodies when Louis cut him off sent those tingles dancing up and down Harry's spine, made his breath catch. It was commonplace anymore, but it always had such an effect on Harry as if it were the very first time.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" asked Louis. Louis had been the first to shower tonight, and he smelled like soap and shampoo. Harry tried not to breathe too deeply, because, as tired as he was, Louis' fresh smell nearly drove him out of his mind. He couldn't get away from it though, as he was downwind of Louis.

Louis glanced around. No one was near. They were all in the bunkhouse awaiting their showers, or chatting briefly before bed.

"You really proved yourself today . . . " began Louis. Harry peered at him with interest. The rancher seemed ill at ease. Harry waited patiently. The news had to be good, or Louis wouldn't have started out this way.

"I've decided . . . that if you want it . . . I want to offer you a permanent, full time position . . . to work here."

Louis' eyes didn't meet his, and Harry could hardly process the fact that Louis almost looked shy. As if he might be afraid Harry wouldn't want the position.

Harry wanted to jump for joy or hug Louis, but instead he made himself proud by maintaining his dignity.

"I'd love to have the job," he said simply. Louis smiled.

"You know . . .I'm glad Johnny pressed me so hard to hire you. He always has had damn good judgment about people. You're easy to get along with and you do as you're told. You're a rare one." And with that, Louis turned on his heel, throwing a "good night" over his shoulder at Harry as he headed for the main house.


	14. Chapter 14

Harry stifled a whoop of joy. He couldn't have gotten a better compliment from Louis if he'd done all the work on all those calves by himself.

 _He'd won Louis' approval._

Wait until he called his mum, Audrey and Tish tomorrow! He was just too tired to tonight. He could have talked to them in his bunk, but he might disturb the others, and they were probably as dead tired as he was. Tomorrow his loved ones would know he was now a permanent employee with the Rocking Horse Ranch!

Harry, Niall and Leo talked a bit before going to sleep that night. Johnny and Nick were already snoring, and they were both deep sleepers so there was no concern about waking them.

Niall was thrilled for Harry, and the young Irish man could be described as nothing else but pure sunshine and optimism. His blue eyes always sparkled and he was perpetually in such a good mood that Harry sometimes wondered if he was even real. He got along with everyone, never complained, and was a work horse. His frequent, good-natured laugh was a real morale booster at the end of a long day.

Leo was still a little shaky about where he ranked with the other ranch hands, and he was most comfortable with Harry, Niall and Johnny. Nick was pretty much the quietest one, keeping to himself at times, but a hard worker and was always pleasant. They were all, however, very supportive and glad that Harry would be staying.

Shadow Bear had growled when Leo had walked into the bunkhouse tonight. Leo had felt a little unwelcome, maybe even a little out of place, even though it hadn't been a person showing hostility, but the ranch dog.

"She's just not used to you yet, Leo," explained Harry. "You're still new."

Leo shrugged. "I guess."

"Are you sore?" asked Leo of Harry.

"Yeah."

"I worked in Montana for a couple of months before I stopped bein' sore," remarked Leo. "So many different jobs on a ranch that use different sets of muscles."

"I heard you were there for two years."

"Yeah, since I was eighteen. Then they stopped makin' enough money on cattle to keep all their hands. I didn't have much seniority, so I was one of the first to go. Cattle ranches don't cut it anymore unless there's money to upgrade the stock and such."

"That's what I heard. I guess Louis has the funds to do whatever he needs to."

"Yeah, I was right glad to get hired on here. I really liked the fact that he's got underground irrigation, so he don't have to worry about the grass dyin' when there's a drought. I hear there's a man-made creek out a couple of miles, too. Johnny said sometimes they go swimmin' on their days off when it's hot."

"Yeah," volunteered Niall. "It's real pretty there, and it's kinda a nice escape to swim for a while."

"That sounds nice. I love to swim," Harry suddenly couldn't wait to visit the creek. But for now, there wouldn't be much time for anything, at least until the spring roundup and spring birthings were completed.

Niall told them about how he'd left Ireland to come to the United States to work on a ranch, something he'd always wanted to do. His story was a lot like Harry's, as he'd looked for a while before finding the Rocking Horse Ranch. He'd had some experience in Ireland, so he hadn't been as green as Harry.

Next they talked about going into town. Niall told them about his favorite bars. Being Irish, Niall liked to "have a pint or two," as he put it, usually on a Saturday night. Niall told about how difficult it was to find a willing woman, and complained that the women all perpetually had their eye on Louis.

Harry felt a little sick to his stomach, imagining the females flocking to Louis, and Louis picking one that he fancied, and . . . he couldn't finish the thought.

Branding for the three remaining days before it was finished had Harry so sore, stiff and weary every evening that he wondered if it would ever end. He'd become good at it though, and next year he might even be of some real help.

Working so closely with Louis during those days was bittersweet. No matter how the calf struggled, no matter how exhausted he was, no matter how pressed for time they were, Harry's heart never failed to pound when Louis was near. And that was most of the time.

Harry knew that only a superhuman show of willingness to throw himself into his work would prove his dedication to his job at this point, since he didn't yet have the knowledge and skill that was required. So he put everything he had into letting the cowboys see he was not afraid to push himself as hard as he had to. He needed this job—but just as important, he _wanted_ this job. He didn't want to work anywhere else. This was what he'd dreamed of all his life, and damned if he was going to lose it. He was so afraid the others would think he wasn't ambitious enough that he found things to do every second of the work day.

The weather was slowly becoming warmer, and often Harry would find barely enough time between calves to swipe at his face with his sleeve to keep the sweat from running into his eyes. He knew his entire face, by the end of the day, was covered with the red Texas dust that reminded him of terra cotta. He wouldn't allow himself to look in the mirror before he took his nightly shower. He was vain—he had to admit it. He liked to look his best at all times, but this ranch work just did not allow that. But, strangely enough, no matter how dirty Louis was, he never failed to look perfect to Harry . . .

How very frustrating that man was. Even coated in sweat and dust, he looked good enough to eat. Even smelling like horses, leather, calves and manure, Harry still breathed him in because he had his own unique scent that kicked Harry's hormones in.

At lunch one day, Louis approached Harry and sat beside him on the bench to eat his sandwich. The others were inside the bunkhouse, eating at the table. Harry had settled out here to enjoy the pleasant weather, and when Louis appeared, he stiffened involuntarily. The first thing that came to mind was that the boss wasn't happy with some facet of his job performance, and was going to give him a bad verbal evaluation. This was still his biggest fear—that he wasn't good enough, even though Louis had officially hired him on full-time.

Harry steeled himself for Louis' characteristically undiplomatic, straightforward words of condemnation. He saw no other reason for the rancher's approach.

"Well, Harry," Louis drawled, leaning back on the bench, tossing a leg over to rest an ankle casually on his knee. How Harry envied him . . . always so driven on the job, yet somehow magically able to just turn it off when not on duty.

 _Out with it! Just go ahead and fire me!_

That voice inside Harry's head was so sure what was on Louis' mind, even though Louis had previously let him know in no uncertain terms that he was happy with his performance. Harry knew it was unreasonable to feel this way, but he had such a fear of ending up the way he'd started when leaving California.

"Chill out. You're doin' very well. You're catchin' on, and workin' just as hard as the others. Well done. In fact, the others admire you a lot. So do I," Louis shifted, looking a tad uncomfortable. "I know no one says much in the way of praise, but if I'm not yellin' at you, and the others aren't gettin' all pushed out of shape, take that as a good sign."

Well, he wasn't going to fire him. At least not right now. Not until he _really_ messed up. But all that mattered was that, for now, he still had a job.

Harry couldn't have suppressed a smile if his life depended on it. He was suddenly able to swallow his bite of sandwich, which had become practically stuck in his throat at Louis' approach.

"Thanks," he said.

"I've seen you practice your ropin', and you even have an admirer," Louis smiled.

 _An admirer?_

"Leo. He either has the hots for you or he's got a bad case of hero worship."

Harry blushed—something that hadn't happened in a while.

"I know, I know," Louis smiled. "You don't swing that way."

Harry needed more long sleeved shirts and Wranglers. Nora, the housekeeper, washed all the ranch hand's clothes twice a week, but Harry wanted several more pairs so he'd have plenty in case of mishaps, like getting blood on his clothes when doctoring livestock. Also, he'd often been flung into ripe piles of dung by the feisty animals. It happened to them all, but with Harry, it was more often because he was inherently clumsy. It was now a running joke among the hands that Harry could find something to trip over even if absolutely _nothing_ was there. Well, perhaps a speck of dust.

It was nice to always have fresh clothes waiting, even though they wouldn't stay fresh for long. Harry needed both work shirts and a few more nice shirts for special occasions. So when Johnny mentioned he was going to town on Saturday, Harry asked to go along. Johnny had no problem with that-he was always happy to have Harry along. Louis had given them another weekend off, claiming they'd earned it by accomplishing the spring round-up in record time.

Johnny was the only one of the cowboys Harry felt truly comfortable talking with. And even though he was getting to know Niall and Leo much better, it was Johnny that he felt almost as if he'd known all his life.

The others were a bit rough around the edges. They teased each other mercilessly, and now that Harry had been around a while, they sometimes included him in their taunting. It was all in good fun, and Harry knew it meant they had accepted him, but he had always tended to be on the overly sensitive, reactive side.

On their way to town in one of the trucks, Harry expressed to Johnny how Nora, the housekeeper, was very reserved with him.

"Oh, she's that way with everyone. She's a tough ole' gal, kinda a loner. I reckon she's a little bitter too."

"Why's that?" Harry felt comfortable asking Johnny, as the man never seemed to take offense. His manner was always inviting, and he gave Harry the confidence to ask questions.

"Well . . . " Johnny leaned back, stretched his back, and settled more comfortably in the driver's seat. Harry smiled. Johnny was a true Texan, pondering things before he spoke, in no hurry to force anything. Conversation and ideas had to flow naturally. But, like Louis, he was deceptive; when working, he was focused, didn't dawdle, and got the job done efficiently. Harry could see clearly why the two men got along so well, working close together, almost reading each other's thoughts. They complimented each other.

"Nora was married for 'bout twenty-five years, I believe. Then her husband got sick somethin' awful, and died of cancer. They was never well-off, but they got by. When he died, he left a buncha bills Nora didn't know about; you see, he'd always taken care of their finances. So after he was gone, she found she had to sell their home to pay off bills, and she was left with nothin.' I reckon that may be why she's so remote-like. She came to the Rockin' Horse Ranch years ago lookin' for a job to support herself."

"Do you think she's happy here?" Harry wanted to know.

"Oh . . . I 'spose she is. Sure seems to enjoy keepin' the house in shape. Gits along good with Cookie. Sometimes I wonder if Cookie don't have a bit of a crush on her." Johnny smiled. "When he's not busy cookin,' I see him followin' her around a bit. Cookie's never been married, ya see. I think he's right shy around women. Took him pert near five years to sidle up to Nora a little."

Harry smiled, enjoying this bit of gossip. "Do you think Nora likes him too?"

"If she does, that woman'd never admit it," Johnny laughed. "He's a few years younger 'n her, I think. But looks like it don't bother him a bit."

Harry took full advantage when Johnny went into a feed store to order a massive amount of fly spray and other incidentals needed on the ranch. Harry swept into a department store and was lucky enough to find three shirts that were just what he needed for work. He also picked up two more pair of Wranglers. While he was at it, he got two dress shirts for when he went into town—to a bar, club, or wherever it was the others usually went.

Coming out of the store, and looking around to see if Johnny was about, Harry spotted a masculine figure lounging against a pole about thirty feet away. The man was openly looking at him, and the back of Harry's neck tingled.

The cowboy wasn't even trying to conceal his obvious gaze. The Stetson was pulled low over his eyes, but it only took Harry a moment to know who it was. Relief flooded his veins, and the tingling turned into anticipation.

 _Louis_.

He had looked so sinister, so forbidding. Pushing himself away from the pole with a careless shoulder, Louis strolled over in Harry's direction with an ease that looked a little bit too casual, too slow. But Harry somehow caught the eagerness behind the feigned indifference. Just a feeling in his gut.

Oh, how he loved the way the rancher walked! He had thought at first that Louis' swaggering was just a tough act. But he'd soon found out that Louis swaggered most of the time—even when concentrating on work. It gave him a bad ass ambience, and unfortunately, Harry liked it . . . too much.

It was what had attracted Harry initially at the Jubilee. Loose-legged, casual, yet somehow with a dangerous flare. Only a man totally at home in his own body could walk like that. He could have jumped right out of the pages of the kind of Old West novels Harry fancied reading. He would have looked completely natural with a gun belt, toting a couple of .45 six-shooters.

Harry's heart started its crazy thundering, the rush in his ears the moment he'd recognized Louis. Furious with himself, he reminded himself quite sternly that this was only a man he worked with. His boss. Nothing else, nothing more.

This reaction his body experienced continued to baffle him. How could anyone affect him like this? And on a moment's notice too. He had been enjoying himself, as carefree as the spring day until the man had appeared.

Then just like that, his insides had gone to jelly, and he was going to pieces. All at the same moment, he felt his cock twitch and harden, and he wanted to fall over his own feet, or start laughing hysterically, like a daft man, or maybe even run in the opposite direction to escape Louis.

But miraculously, he did none of those things. Except sport a boner. He stood his ground anyway, and watched the rancher get nearer and nearer, those cerulean blue eyes mysteriously shaded by the brim of his hat, a seductive smile forming on his lips.

Even the sound of his boots clacking on the pavement sounded sensual. And nerve wracking. Blue denim shirt that matched his eyes, open at the neck, clean black Wranglers, silver belt buckle, a blue bandana tied around his neck and dress boots; not the scuffed ones he wore at work.

Heavens! What was that grin about? Harry couldn't see his eyes clearly, so he couldn't be sure if it was genuine or mocking. And he had a feeling Louis liked it that way.

 _He must know how alluring he is._

Louis, however, couldn't see Harry's feelings, and what a blessing that was for Harry. Well, maybe he saw the swelling in Harry's pants, which was Harry's only sign of susceptibility. He just had to hope and pray it wasn't obvious.

If Louis had touched him though, it would have opened a can of worms. The man could have molded Harry any way he wanted to.

"You here with Johnny?" Louis asked.

"Yes. I left him at the feed store orderin' fly spray, and I was in the department store so long, he must have wondered what happened to me. He must be 'round here somewhere. Don't know where he is. I got some work shirts and some more Wranglers."

Realizing he was rambling, Harry caught himself from letting any more useless words tumble from his mouth.

Louis' infamous stone-face had returned. He just stood there quietly, and made Harry feel like a moron. How anyone could deal with this man when they didn't know what he was thinking was beyond Harry's comprehension.

But, mercifully, it didn't last long. Harry watched on as Louis' impassive façade dissolved, his eyes roaming over Harry's body unconsciously. Harry wasn't wearing his usual work duds. He was wearing one of his nicer Western shirts, the top two snaps left undone. Nothing escaped Louis' eyes.

Feeling unbearably self-conscious, Harry cleared his throat and pretended to scan the street for Johnny, the lust closing in on him like a stifling cloud. But nothing would erase the sensation of Louis' blue eyes piercing his emotional armor.

When he could stand the silence no longer, even though it had only been a matter of seconds, Harry spit out what first came to mind.

"So, what are you doin' here in town?" He immediately regretted it—it sounded as if he were being nosy.

But the unpredictable Mr. Tomlinson seemed to jump on the opportunity to keep the conversation going.

"I'm just killin' time until the barn dance tonight." With effort, Harry dragged his eyes back to the man's own eyes. Harry was jolted. Louis had thrown a bombshell. No one had even mentioned a barn dance. Considering how bored the ranch hands were on their days off, it seemed like someone would have said something.

"I didn't even know about it." Harry realized his voice sounded a little on the whiny side. Then it occurred to him that maybe the hands didn't _want_ him to know about it. But why? He couldn't think of any reason why they would want to keep it a secret from him. But it was true that Louis had willingly told him, so there was no reason to jump to conclusions. He told himself this to keep from feeling hurt that he hadn't been included.

"The boys were gonna surprise you. They were just gonna bring you over in the truck, and not tell you where they were goin'. They haven't told Leo either. It's kind of a tradition, even though now that I think about it, I reckon it _is_ kinda lame."

"Why were they going to do it that way?"

"'Cause there's not much to do around here. It's a treat for the hands, and they figured it would be for you too." Even though Harry was not thrilled at the idea of dancing with women, he still felt a pang of excitement at the idea of attending his first function in Pecos, Texas. Other than the Huck Finn Jubilee, that was. A barn dance did sound kind of fun.

"I appreciate your forewarnin,' Louis. What time is it?"

"The dance? Starts at eight. Usually goes 'til midnight or so." He shifted, and began to scrape at something invisible on the pavement with the toe of his boot. Harry sensed indecision or maybe restlessness, he wasn't sure which. He waited, trying not to look eager to see what was eating at his boss.

Harry hated that Louis might scuff his nice boots with the way he was dragging the toe on the cement. It made him cringe. God, but he worried about the weirdest things!

"Don't ruin those fancy boots," he piped up without any forethought.

Louis looked up, somewhat jarred. Then he smiled slowly. "Yeah . . . reckon you're right."

After another endless pause, Louis lit up a cigarette with practiced ease. The movements his hands made somehow soothed Harry. So matter-of-fact, so smooth. Harry wondered if he really wanted a smoke, or if he was just doing it to occupy his hands.

The younger man smelled the freshly lit tobacco, watched the rancher shake out the match and awaited whatever it was Louis was apparently wanting to announce. He was taking so long to say whatever was itching to escape his lips that Harry couldn't imagine what could possibly be so stressful.

Squinting at him through the smoke, Louis clamped down on the butt with his very white, even teeth, then yanked it from his mouth and rested his hand holding the cigarette against his thigh. He was leaning against a post again. Probably an old habit.

The casual ease of his motions made him appear mysterious and daunting. And exasperating as hell.

"There's gonna be a lot of guys there." He said the words as if it told the whole story—everything that was churning in his head. As if Harry should automatically know what he was talking about. His gaze penetrated Harry's, as if he was issuing a warning.

 _So what?_ Harry was confused.

What did he expect him to say about that? What was the point?

If Harry was sassy like Louis himself, he'd come back with a witty, sarcastic remark.

 _What, do you think, I'm gay?_

Now, that would probably have bowled Louis over. But Harry had never learned the art of bantering, especially with someone intimidating like Louis. He had been gently raised. Perhaps _too_ gently. He wasn't prepared to hold his own. He waited, but the rancher said no more, just continued his unsettling stare.

"I'm not sure I know what you mean."

Harry was almost afraid to hear what else Louis had to say. Even if he had been flippant enough to pin him down and make him explain, Louis _was_ his boss, after all. He just wished he could match his degree of confidence, and not always be so timid and insecure and afraid to speak up.

"You might have to be a little careful. Some, just a few, of those cowboys seem to cotton to your type."

 _What was he implying? That Harry was feminine? Or worse, had he caught on that Harry was gay?_

"Be careful?" Harry played dumb, hoping to God Louis didn't suspect his carefully guarded secret.

Right then, Johnny appeared, putting an end to their exchange.

"There you are! Figured I'd never see you again. What'd you do, get lost?" he asked Harry.

Louis and Johnny slapped each other on the back.

"Ya look all gussied up, Lou," Johnny appraised the rancher and whistled. Louis blushed, a rare event. Even under his bronzed tan, pink effused his cheeks and neck.

"Lookin' forward to the dance tonight?" Johnny added, then instantly clapped his hand over his mouth.

"It's alright, Johnny. I already told him about the dance. Figured he could use a little warnin'."

A look passed between Johnny and Louis that told Harry Johnny knew just what Louis was alluding to.

Johnny nodded solemnly. "Ah, he don't have to worry with us around."

"Yeah, I guess between you and me and that little Romeo Leo, we can keep Harry outta trouble."

Still not completely understanding what they were implying, Harry kept his thoughts to himself. The real problem was, he needed protection from Louis' charm.


	15. Chapter 15

Harry reflected on the conversation he'd had with his mum. She had been so proud of him, as had Audrey and Tish. Harry let the words of praise trickle through his mind as he languished on his bunk, getting a couple hours of relaxation before the barn dance tonight.

He had told Audrey and Tish that he was making more money than he had at his previous job, but had not quoted the exact amount. He didn't like to boast. But with his mum, he hadn't been able to resist. After all, she was the best one to brag to, it was one of the greatest things about a mother: they always rejoiced with you with even more enthusiasm than the best of friends. A mother always wanted the best for you.

Even in his excitement about the barn dance, Harry was dreading it in a way. As much as he was looking forward to it, he didn't know what to expect. He _did_ know he'd be expected to dance with women, and he didn't want to encourage anyone. Not that he thought he was irresistible or anything like that, but some women seemed to really lap up his looks—something that mystified him.

Many women preferred the rugged, Marlboro man type, but a good amount seemed attracted to his baby face, curly hair and dimples. As ludicrous as it sounded, he actually wished he could dance with Louis! Boy, would that make everyone stare, and rumors would be flying, but it sure would be nice all the same.

Another concern of his was the thought of Louis flirting with women, dancing with them, perhaps even kissing one or two. That thought made Harry miserable and tied his guts in knots.

He'd caught Louis staring at him at the most unlikely times, even though Louis had tried to be furtive. After being discovered, Louis would pull a guilty look, and Harry found himself wishing that Louis had to rein in his desire to keep looking when it became obvious he had been detected. Harry also bet Louis ogled females in the same way, and that made him feel very un-special.

 _Why did Louis look at him like that, anyway?_ Probably just making sure Harry was applying himself to the job, nothing more. Harry's imagination sometimes ran wild on him. He could see the potential of really getting himself into trouble if he allowed himself to assume things.

Once, Johnny had been teasing Harry, commenting on how perfect his curls were, and Louis had pinned Johnny's eyes with his own, saying, "Do me a favor?"

That meant _stop what you're doing,_ but since Harry had never heard an American use that phrase, he couldn't help but wonder if Louis was aware that Johnny didn't know the meaning, and that was Louis' way of letting Harry know he didn't like Johnny giving him so much attention. Fat chance. Harry was dreaming again. Wishing again.

There were other instances where Louis would say something cryptic now and then. Since his words might be construed in two or more different ways, Harry could never be sure if Louis might be sending him a message. This was all wishful thinking on Harry's part, and in his lucid moments, he realized that.

Once, Harry had asked Johnny if he'd ever been married. He didn't want to pry or be too inquisitive and offend Johnny by asking such a personal question, but Johnny had not batted an eyelash. Since Harry's father had died when he'd been fairly young, he was quite curious about relationships and marriage. He hadn't paid that much attention to his parents' marriage, as he was too busy spending time with his friends, but now that his dad was gone, he wished he had.

"Yeah," a melancholy look had come over Johnny. "I was married real young, when I was only nineteen. It didn't work out, obviously. Don't think I'll ever go that route again. I was restless as a fox in a chicken coop."

Harry had giggled. "I'm sorry. I wasn't laughin' about your marriage. It's just that you Texans use so many metaphors. And most of them are funny . . . at least to me," he added carefully.

"That's jus' the way we all talk," Johnny looked puzzled. Then Harry realized talking metaphorically was as natural to the cowboy as palm trees were in California. There, now _he_ was thinking in metaphors. He wondered how long it would be until he talked like a Texan.

Directly after dinner, Harry began to get ready for the barn dance. He hadn't even thought to ask Johnny or Louis where it would be held. Someone's barn, obviously.

He had found that Texas nights cooled down considerably, so he wore one of his new long sleeved shirts, a bolo tie and grey Wranglers. He took a jumper along too (well, they were called sweaters in America) in case it got especially chilly. He could just slip it over his head.

"Goin' somewheres special tonight, Harry?" asked Leo. He looked worried, afraid his fellow employee had plans, and therefore wouldn't be going to the barn dance.

"Louis spilled the beans in town today," explained Johnny. "That's why we told you too. Normally the new hands don't get told about it until we arrive at the dance."

Leo looked confused. Johnny's pale eyes twinkled with mischief. "We have some odd traditions."

"Where is the barn dance held?" Harry asked Niall as they squeezed onto the bench seat in one of the trucks.

"Outta here!" commanded Louis as he slipped into the driver's seat. Harry, you and Leo can ride in the back with Nick. Johnny and Niall ride in the cab with me, as they have seniority."

Harry felt like a dog that had been smacked on the nose with a newspaper. He was so embarrassed as he climbed into the back of the truck. He'd had no idea he'd broken a rule.

They drove a few miles to a barn that used to be a stable in the old days for the horses of the cowboys who drifted through Pecos. It was at least a hundred years old, but had been maintained in order to avoid it being torn down. Now it was used for barn dances twice a year. The foundation was original.

The barn dances were a highlight in the cowboy's lives in a town where there was not much else to do but hang out in bars or visit the one movie theatre. This was the way they preferred it though, as Pecos still held a piece of the Old West.

These cowboys didn't care for anything "citified," as Johnny had put it. So events such as the barn dance and the Jubilee held a special significance, and just about every ranch hand in town showed up, just the way life in the west used to be so long ago.

Harry found himself caught up in the expectation of a fun evening. After working so hard for the last two weeks and thinking of little else, this promised to be a treat. At least he hoped so. He could actually feel the electricity in the air from the other cowboys' anticipation.

With the windows rolled down, Louis could be heard announcing there'd be no work on Monday, except for feeding the animals, and the truck erupted with whoops so loud that the truck fairly rocked. They'd need the extra day to nurse their hangovers, he added with a chuckle. Harry had to fight not to burst into laughter. Their southern exclamations seemed so surreal, so hillbilly in nature. It was as if they were jesting, but they were actually very serious in their delight.

Even Louis joined in, and Harry found this especially humorous. The boss was so much better all the way around when he let his guard down. He was glad Louis didn't seem like he was going to ruin the dance by being his usual tightly controlled, sober self. But really, he knew Louis was perfectly capable of being carefree and fun because he'd witnessed it on several occasions. His boss wasn't always such a sourpuss.

When they arrived, Harry saw right away that the other ranch hands had not been exaggerating when they'd said every cowboy around would be there. There must have been well over a hundred milling around. The barn was charming and quaint, very well maintained, as Johnny had claimed. There was plenty of room to dance where the actual stable and stalls had been hollowed out, leaving a huge dance floor with straw tossed here and there liberally to create even more of a barn atmosphere. Bales of straw were also lined up, hugging the inner perimeter of the building. Old harnesses decorated the walls.

The original loft and ladder remained, and Harry itched to go up there and explore. There were even booths set up with food and drinks galore. And of course, beer.

One thing Harry noticed straight away was that there was a serious shortage of women. There must have been five men to every woman. Talk about competition!

Cowboy hats were everywhere, and Harry was glad he'd gone ahead and bought a black Stetson when he'd been to town. Everyone wore one, and he would have looked out of place without it. He'd also bought some Western boots, since he'd only owned English ones. Good thing he got paid well, because he'd spent a pretty penny on them.

The boots were a rich black cherry color with fancy turquoise swirls and silver tips. He hadn't been able to resist them. Harry had a flare for the fancy stowed away under the surface, and it had emerged in those boots.

The first thing the cowboys did was head toward the booths that sold beer. Harry followed along. Standing in line, Harry got a look at the first dancers as they stepped onto the floor as the live band began to play country western music.

Harry liked pop music himself, and didn't know how to do any of the country dances. Almost as soon as he had a beer in his hand, a woman grabbed his other hand and swept him out onto the dance floor. Not knowing a single step, Harry tried in vain to prize himself away from her, but she was caught up in the infectious celebratory mood of the evening, and simply would not hear of it.

Soon Harry had no choice but to give into helpless laughter as the woman tried to teach him the steps as they were dancing. He was stumbling and showing his clumsy side, but he had to at least try. He kept bumping into her, stepping on her toes and missing steps, becoming seriously off balance a few times.

He felt foolish as the woman, undaunted, continued to swing him around. When the song finally ended, Harry took refuge by a lemonade stand, having downed the beer he'd left on a bale of straw in nearly one gulp. He tried to be extra careful not to get corralled into dancing again by standing to the side and nearly behind the stand.

Leo appeared at his side from out of nowhere with a cup of beer in each hand. Since Harry had killed his first beer in record time, he was content to just sit for a while without drinking any more for the time being, his nerves frayed after that attempt at dancing. Leo handed him one of the plastic cups. He acted as if Harry had requested it.

He sure was a charmer, thought Harry. Too bad Louis couldn't be like that. Harry was appreciative of the beer Leo had brought him, although he didn't really want it. But in order not to bruise Leo's ego, he accepted it with grace.

"Thanks, Leo! How nice of you."

Leo looked ready for a wild night, as he guzzled his beer down almost immediately. He was nicely dressed in a print shirt, brand new Wranglers, and the bandana tied around his neck made Harry wonder if he weren't trying to emulate Louis. Louis was the only one who wore one even when not working.

Even Leo's hair was under control tonight. It was usually messy, but it was slicked back and still looked quite damp from his shower. Harry had given up on his, letting the curls do their thing. All he'd had to do was fluff it up a little and he was good to go.

Leo's goofy smile lit up his face, and he bumped into a booth or two as they strolled around, making Harry realize he wasn't the only clumsy one around. The difference was, Leo wasn't clumsy at work. He was probably nervous about all the competition for the women, mused Harry.

Harry saw a glimpse of Louis now and then with a beer in his hand near the far end of the stage where the band was playing. It seemed that the few women in attendance had all gathered suspiciously in that area. Some were openly flirting and smiling with blank, spacey looks on their faces, while others just stood and stared. At Louis.

Harry couldn't blame them for a minute. Louis was raw, naturally virile, yet refined. A rather strange combination, but a real work of art. It worked for him—fabulously. He turned those women's heads wherever he went. Harry tried to ignore the stab of something unpleasant in his middle at the sight of Louis mingling amongst the females, but, of course, it couldn't possibly be jealousy. There was nothing between them, and Louis was not gay.

 _How many times a day did he have to remind himself of that fact?_

Odds were he himself just had a temporary man-crush that would vanish on its own in time. So what was the big deal about the women? Harry shook his head, trying to banish the unsettling thoughts that were curling around in his mind.

Now he stood talking with Niall and Johnny, being unable to drag his gaze away from Louis all the while. He watched how wily the women were in their quest to get Louis' attention, but what was interesting was that Louis remained unaffected. It was evident he was used to this kind of thing. Well, if you could get pretty much anyone you wanted, what was the point in putting in a lot of effort?

Harry saw several women making attempts at clever humor, and then laughing, laying their hands on Louis' arm. It was an old trick women used—summon a man's attention with physical contact. As the night progressed, the women even began to lean into him. Louis however, didn't dance with any of them. Harry wondered if he just wasn't a dancer, or maybe none of them caught his fancy.

With unruffled poise, Louis handled the situation as if he'd done it a million times. And he probably had, come to think of it.

Nick and Niall had discovered two women that they were engaging in serious conversation, expertly trying to keep them from wandering off. Leo, still hanging around Harry, and unbeknownst to him, watched Harry the entire time Harry watched Louis and the clamoring women.

Leo continued to replace Harry's beer every time it was nearly empty. Harry had been absently sipping it as he watched Louis, hardly even aware of drinking it, and not even noticing how often Leo had been refilling his cup.

When, half an hour later, Harry felt a pleasant warmth creeping over him, he realized he must have had more than a couple of cups.

"How many beers have you brought me, Leo?" he asked. Sheepishly, Leo shrugged his shoulders.

"I don't know. Maybe three or four." He had been hoping to get Harry just buzzed enough so the Cheshire lad would get loose lips, and maybe tell him why he was spending the evening staring at the boss.

Before long, the beer fully kicked in, and Harry was definitely feeling carefree, and somehow had let his guard slip when another woman had crept up on him, yanking him onto the dance floor before he knew what had hit him. It was a slow dance this time. At least Harry didn't have to worry about tripping over his own feet because he knew how to slow dance; it was just that he didn't _want_ to slow dance with a woman. He gritted his teeth and made it through the song, but it hadn't been easy when the woman had started to compliment him and tell him how several of her friends had commented on how cute he was. She enlightened him that there was a buzz going around about the Rocking Horse's new extremely cute ranch hand. She also danced way too close for his comfort.

For the next hour, Harry saw no sign of Louis. He hadn't been on the dance floor at all, as far as Harry could tell. More women had arrived, and there were so many couples dancing now that he had to be careful not to bump into others. Dancing was better than standing at the sidelines with no one to talk to, since Leo was now also dancing.

He tried not to feel disappointment, and had to chastise himself because Louis didn't owe him anything. Not even idle chatter.

Forsaking more beer and taking a breather, Harry was nibbling on a brownie he had purchased at a booth when he looked out onto the dance floor and saw Louis dancing with one of the more aggressive women Harry had seen hanging around him all night.

Louis wasn't talking to her, and in fact, didn't look at her at all. It was a slow dance, and the woman was leaning in close to him, but Louis was not holding her as Harry would have expected. Harry felt like crawling out of his own skin as the girl flirted unremittingly. He kept looking for a spark of interest in Louis' eyes, but none were forthcoming. Louis looked, in fact, quite bored.

Leo saw what was happening, and that the woman Louis was dancing with had that half-conscious puppy dog look, as if mesmerized by the man. All the while, there was Harry, trying to wrench his eyes away from Louis with very little success. Leo smiled. This was like a good drama show playing out right before his eyes.

Having escaped the dance floor when the song ended, Harry barely had time to drink and then set down his empty glass of lemonade when he was jerked onto the dance floor again by another woman. He wished he wasn't so "nice," and could find it within himself to refuse, but he was just too polite to reject her.

This was another fast song. Did everyone but Harry know how to country dance? He felt so conspicuous, but the beer he had consumed went a long way toward allowing him to throw caution to the wind. Who cared what anyone else thought, anyway?

At last he started to have some fun, He'd been way too timid and shy for his entire life. Of course, no amount of liquor would have caused him to make a fool of himself. It just wasn't in him. But nothing was going to put a damper on his fun, either.

The girls were only too happy to keep him on the dance floor for the next couple of hours. There were so many of them that their faces began to blur in his mind. None stood out. After a while, they all looked the same.

He drank no more, so after an hour or so he was almost sober again, reflecting on how he still had Louis on his mind.

As the evening stretched on, many of the cowboys had loosened up with all the beer drinking, and a few comments were beginning to be thrown Harry's way on the dance floor. Luckily, Johnny was dancing nearby, purposely, Harry assumed, keeping an eye on him, knowing how some of these guys, when they had a few beers under their belts, got bold, and weren't to be trusted.

Johnny wasn't confrontational with the men, but he rescued Harry several times, heedful not to start a fight, but making it clear in a subtle way that he wouldn't let them hassle Harry. Harry was ever grateful, but feeling guilty that Johnny cared enough to act as his guardian when he could have been looking for female companionship instead of babysitting. Johnny possessed a kind of confidence, not unlike Louis,' that other men respected. Still, Harry felt blameworthy that the man wasn't even able to flirt with any of the women because he felt he had to keep Harry in his sites at all times.

"So yer the new hand they hired at the Rockin' Horse, huh?" one of the male dancers sniped at Harry, abandoning his dance partner in the middle of the floor to ogle Harry. Harry's partner also moved away, sensing trouble. The man _looked_ like trouble.

"Yeah, been there two weeks now," Harry said casually, trying to appear self-assured and off-hand, suspecting the guy could easily be provoked into being bad news.

"Yer sure easy on the eyes," the man was slurring a little, and sweating, and Harry knew he wouldn't like the direction this was headed.

"Yer face, yer hair, everythin' is perfect. I bet the other hands like you workin' with 'em. Or do you belong to someone in particular? I always did suspect Louis Tomlinson might have a streak of gay in him."

"Where would you get an idea like that?" Harry found himself springing to Louis' defense, and was quickly graduating from irritated to incensed at the man's innuendos and nosiness.

"I seen you watchin' him tonight. Seen him lookin' at you too. Or do you snuggle up to the other hands too? Does he share?"

The tipsy man reached out to Harry's face as if to stroke his cheek. "Look at all that purdy, glorious hair," he slurred deliriously. Harry jerked his face away from the man's unruly touch.

Quick as a flash, Harry saw the cowboy jolt suddenly and then slide backward in one single motion. Confused, he looked to see if he might be falling over in a drunken stupor. He hadn't seemed quite _that_ drunk. A second later, he discovered why.

Louis had the cowboy by the back of the shirt, up near his collar, then smoothly and just as fluidly flung him away, as if he were no more than a bothersome weed that was obstructing his path. The cowboy, a few inches taller and maybe thirty pounds heavier than Louis, hit the floor hard in a humiliated heap, then, seeing who had tossed him to the floor, got up and slunk away like a beaten dog. Harry's mouth gaped open in astonishment.

"That son of a bitch," Louis growled. "See what I tried to tell you, Harry? You gotta be careful when you look like you do."

"Where did you come from?"

"I've been keepin' an eye on you. I saw that wanker watchin' you too, and knew it was only a matter of time. You're me employee. Can't let one of me ranch hands get raped." Even though Harry wasn't exactly a maiden in distress, Louis had certainly been a gallant rescuer, and Harry saw the rancher was smiling; well, maybe he was really grimacing, gnashing his teeth together even more likely.

"Let's go outside," Louis gave Harry a no nonsense shove toward the barn door, then put his arm around his shoulder, as if supporting him; putting on a show so if anyone was watching they would think Harry was drunk, and his boss was taking him outside to sober up in the fresh air. After all, everyone here knew the owner of the Rocking Horse, and the fact that Louis had just hired a new hand. Gossip traveled very quickly in such a small town.

Louis was muttering to himself, restlessly extracting a cigarette from his pocket and lighting up as soon as they slipped outside. Harry didn't know if the rancher was mad at _him,_ or the guy who had been so brazen. Louis took his time before commenting. He didn't want to mess up and say something too harsh, but Harry was seriously in need of a wake-up call.

"You're too nice lookin,' too pretty, and it's gonna get you up a tree, lad," he finally complained, inhaling deeply and then blowing out the smoke up into the night air.

Harry was gobsmacked. He never thought he'd see the day that Louis Tomlinson called him "pretty." Or any other type of flattery concerning his looks. He didn't know what he should say to that.

"I didn't do anythin' to encourage him," Harry finally stammered.

Those jungle green eyes were so bright and naïve, thought Louis.

"We have to play the cards we're dealt with, Harry. And you got the ace in good looks. More guys than would ever admit it in there are wantin' a piece of you," Louis controlled his language because Harry seemed like such a mama's boy—so guileless.

"You mean?" Harry looked horrified.

Louis nodded impatiently. "You know how they say the men want the pretty guys in prison?"

Harry's eyes got even wider.

"Really?"

"Hell yeah. You saw how, even now, the men outnumber the women in there. That guy saw that the dance floor was full, people packed all 'round you, and he was gonna try to take advantage. He didn't know I was watchin' him."

Louis knew that others saw how sexy Harry was, how beautiful, how rare, but he, himself, also saw the goodness in him, and that meant more to Louis than any level of attractiveness or sex appeal. He felt a desire, a _need_ to protect him for some odd reason.

So he had to warn Harry.

"I had to wrestle with meself not to lay into him."

Harry sighed. So . . . he had a loose cannon for a boss. It was true the guy had been drunk, but Harry really questioned the thought that he might actually try something sexual with him. Nevertheless, he took heed of Louis' words because his boss had extricated him from danger, and he doubted Louis would have done that if he hadn't really feared for Harry.

There was a tense silence as they walked slowly around the outside of the barn.

"Yorkshire?" asked Harry. He wasn't just trying to break the silence—he really wanted to know.

"Yeah, Donny."

Harry didn't want to appear overly craven, so he acted as if the barn incident was no big deal. Besides, he really didn't want to talk about it anymore. He'd rather not think about the evil that lurked inside that building. He preferred to be out here, alone with Louis anyway.

"You didn't take me seriously, did you?" Louis was bound and determined to put the fear of the devil into Harry. The rancher knew his anger would get the best of him if he didn't police it with an iron fist. He wanted to go back in there and rough up the guy, but he resisted the urge.

"That fucker. I really oughta deck him, but jail doesn't sound too enticin' right now."

Harry didn't seem traumatized by the language. Evidently he was slowly developing a thicker skin.

"I'll be more careful from now on Louis. But really, he seemed to come out of nowhere."

Louis processed this. "Yeah, I guess it's kind of like what women have to watch out for all the time. I don't know how they put up with it—how _you_ put up with it."

That comment of Louis' reminded Harry of the bar in New Mexico. It was true—he had something that brought out the less honorable side in people, but he was darned if he knew what it was.

"So that's how me life's gonna be? Just peachy," Harry pouted.

"Look, most guys would kill to have your looks."

"I think I'm too . . _. girly_ lookin.' The words were bitter on Harry's tongue. It was his Achille's Heel—always yearning to look more manly.

"Bullshit, lad," Louis almost slammed his hand over his mouth. He hadn't meant to make it look like he found Harry desirable. Warning him about horny guys was embarrassing enough without extending it to include himself.

"Why do you call me lad sometimes?" Harry asked, seemingly unaffected by Louis' slip of the tongue.

Only too glad to change the subject, Louis shrugged.

"I guess 'cause you're younger than me."

"Can't be by much."

"What are you—about twenty? I'm twenty-five," said Louis.

"I'm twenty-three!" protested Harry, feeling somewhat of a sting. "Besides, you have to be twenty-one to drink beer!"

"Oh, yeah, you're right. You just look young to me. Should have looked at your employment papers more closely that you filled out when I hired you."

"It makes me feel like a baby when you refer to me as a 'lad,'" Harry bolstered his courage enough to say.

Louis took a last drag from his cigarette, snuffed it out with his bare fingers and tossed it onto the dusty ground. Harry's eyes bugged out for the second or third time in the last half an hour. He thought cowboys only did that in movies.

"Doesn't that hurt?" he asked, eying Louis' thumb and forefinger.

"Mind over matter," was Louis' brisk answer. "Let's make a deal. You watch your back around fooking losers like that one inside the barn, and I'll stop callin' you lad."

"I can do that," responded Harry.

Louis and Harry shared a fist bump to seal the deal.

Harry's constitution might _appear_ gossamer, but it was solid when he needed it to be.

Yeah, thought Louis. Harry was growing on him, and that made Louis very uncomfortable.


	16. Chapter 16

It didn't take Louis long to discover Harry was sagacious. Sometimes he _appeared_ to be a bit on the dull side, but Louis was wondering if that wasn't just an act. Self- preservation, maybe? The longer they talked, the more convinced Louis was of the fact that Harry was a lot sharper than he let on.

Louis found him fascinating, insightful, and engrossing to talk to, and therefore wasn't in any hurry to get back inside to the barn dance.

Didn't innocent packages sometimes come with big secrets?

Louis dared not let himself examine that notion too closely. So they sauntered around slowly, neither one even mentioning the barn dance that they'd abandoned.

Harry noticed that Louis' expression was no longer shuttered. He was far more open, more animated, and his sulky manner had disappeared. This was the second time Harry had taken note that Louis was evolving into something different right in front of him. He was suspecting now that Louis required that people earn his trust. He was so much more of a skeptic than Harry was, but Harry supposed that came with all the responsibilities Louis carried on his young shoulders; running a decent sized ranch not the least of it. He couldn't afford to be sloppy or overly trusting.

Harry felt disproportionately honored that Louis was spending all this time talking to him. Time he could be spending with those women in there, but instead seemed to prefer Harry's company. Harry tried not to leer, but Louis was just so hot. Oh Lord, those vibrant blue eyes were slowly killing him.

Harry also kept busy staring at Louis' chiseled features on the sly. His strong jaw. And those cheekbones … being hired at the Rocking Horse Ranch had been such a blessing, but Louis was rapidly becoming a thorn in his side. A pleasant thorn, but a thorn just the same. Boss or not, Harry couldn't deny how entranced he was. And that wasn't convenient when you were trying to concentrate on your job.

Harry learned a lot about Louis that night, as Louis did likewise with him. Starting out cautiously, they both relaxed the grip they had on themselves slowly and carefully, their mutual admiration barely kept in check.

God, Harry's voice ought to be bottled, thought Louis. The man talked slowly, softly, the timbre being so low and seductive, how a lion's purr might sound. And his eyes were evergreen, mind numbing, dazzling. The kid was nice—really nice. Really good people. If it had been an act, the truth would have been unearthed by now. Harry was a rare sort, indeed.

As they worked on enlightening conversation, the subtle lights placed around the barn displayed how luminous Harry's face was. He looked make-believe to Louis' eyes. They walked back into the shadows, an unspoken pact between them, understanding each other's need for seclusion and solitude.

"So… what do you like?" Louis asked softly, telling himself mentally that he was only asking to gain knowledge of his new employee.

"Like?" asked Harry, bemused.

"Hobbies, food preferences, things like that, yeah?"

"I like bananas, like, a _lot."_

At first Louis thought he must be making a joke, but then, Louis realized his own dirty mind was corrupting Harry's innocent words. Better tread carefully.

"Bananas?" Hopefully Harry would explain.

"Yeah, I've always liked them. I could eat them daily, given the chance," Harry didn't laugh or even smile, so Louis figured he could assume the guy was being serious.

"We'll have to let Cookie know about that," he said. "He likes caterin' to the guys' different tastes."

"Oh, it's not that I can't live without them," was Harry's answer.

"I thought at first that you were makin' an indecent comment," Louis decided to give it a go—see what Harry's reaction would be—the curiosity being too much to keep hidden.

Harry angled his head a bit, wrinkling his forehead, and then laughed quietly. "No. I wouldn't do that."

Well, so much for finding out if, on the outside chance, Harry was gay. Louis had begun to wonder more about it recently. The guy acted masculine enough, but there were certain habits, little traits and quirks that made him second guess his tentative conclusion that the guy was straight. Harry was so sweet, and made such direct eye contact that he was often very difficult to read, even though his very being appeared to be genuinely honest. He was so intense—with that ability to communicate effectively like a lot of gay guys did. But that was far from any kind of unshakable proof.

Harry showed a lot of interest in what the people around him said, and that could be construed in the wrong way. If you weren't as passionate as Harry naturally was—and not a lot of people were, you might get the wrong impression. The man poured all his attention on you, and oftentimes Louis felt gratified by it, only to see Harry react the exact same way toward someone else.

In short, Harry made people feel special, because he, himself was distinctive. Rarely were ranch hands truly engrossed in what each other had to say. But Harry was the exception. Not only in that area, but many others as well.

The barn dance continued past midnight, with Louis and Harry absorbed in their conversation, walking steadily, preoccupied with each other. The noises from within the barn became raucous and more boisterous as the night wore on, but they were hardly aware of it.

Harry had admitted to loving to read. Louis didn't voice it, but he'd seen paperback books on Harry's bunk on many occasions. Harry also had an affinity for music, and the very aware Louis also knew this, as he'd seen Harry with ear buds on, relaxing on his bunk when the hands had a day off. Louis had observed Harry's habits and routines without realizing it. But tonight, he saw the pattern—how he had studied Harry, trying to reach into his mind by subtly investigating and evaluating the man. It had become compulsory by now, and Louis hadn't even been conscious of it.

Louis was stunned when Harry turned things on him, asking Louis what he liked instead of completely replying to Louis' query about his own pastimes. Louis wasn't used to someone taking a special interest in himself. Cowboys, with the possible exception of Niall and, to some extent Johnny, didn't talk a whole lot about their passions in life, or their dreams. They were pretty much a covert lot. Nick and Louis tended more toward the typical, esoteric cowboy.

Louis appreciated the fact that Harry had opened up to him, if only about bananas, so he admitted he also liked to read and listen to music. He'd played football, or what Americans referred to as soccer, in England, and told Harry some hair-raising stories about intense games he'd played.

Harry had lost his father when he had only been fifteen, and he confided in Louis about his regrets that he hadn't spent more quality time with his father, or soaked up his father's wisdom. Harry already knew of Louis' father's death, and that it had happened several years ago. Louis had assumed that, but mentioned it anyway, but he didn't include how he felt that he'd never measure up to the man his father had been.

Did Harry realize he was stealing Louis' breath? Louis was more bedazzled by Harry than he'd ever been with anyone else in his life. He hoped it was just the festivities of the evening, the heady anticipation of no work for the following two days. It certainly couldn't be the beer, as Louis had only had two or three. For him, that was nothing. When he went out drinking he could drink half a dozen before even catching a buzz.

Harry had enchanted him, but was just an itch Louis wanted to scratch. That's what he kept telling himself, over and over.

 _It's just intrigue, that's all._

There it was again— _the fear._ It wasn't acceptable to like Harry this much. He was just a lad that was eager to be a cowboy (And doing a damn fine job of it, truth be known). He was so likeable though. He was fresh, wide-eyed, unsophisticated. Sensitive and sincere? Certainly. Pure? Very possibly.

The fear held Louis in its clutches; it wrapped around him, suffocating him, snuffing the life out of him. That inexorable fear that was with him every minute of every day, and even at night in his dreams.

 _He didn't want to be gay. From his grave, his father would never forgive him._

Harry observed some weird expressions cloud Louis' perfect face. Something was wrong. It seemed that demons were haunting the rancher. But he couldn't just ask—it would be way, way improper. So instead he didn't comment, carefully continuing to watch his boss' face without—he hoped—being obvious.

Harry found himself saturated with an alarming need for Louis Tomlinson. But at the same time, he knew it could never happen. It was interesting what Louis had said about Leo crushing on Harry. He'd said that Harry didn't swing that way. Of course, Harry wasn't going to dispute that, or his neck would be on a chopping block in no time. But he did feel as if he was living a lie.

Something scuttled in front of them and into the brush. It had looked like a giant pill bug. Harry looked at Louis, his eyebrows lifted. "What the hell was that?"

Louis chuckled. "I think that's the first time I've heard you swear, in any form. It was a baby armadillo. You see 'em quite often in Texas. He went under that rock if you want a closer look." Louis gestured toward the rock, his forearm brushing against Harry's own forearm.

The physical contact triggered a particularly strong bolt of desire that stabbed into Harry like a knife.

"No thanks. I think I'll leave him to his privacy," he answered Louis, his voice a tad raw sounding.

The imprint of warmth from Louis' skin stayed with Harry. Made him realize how much he'd missed skin contact since leaving California. His mother was loving and affectionate, and so were Audrey and Tish. But this kind of contact was much nicer than any he'd had before.

 _Did Louis know how much Harry wanted to touch him? To feel that warm, firm flesh against his again? Of course he didn't. Louis would be fit to be tied if he knew the train of Harry's thoughts._

It wasn't until two a.m. that the dance began to break up, everyone finally calling it a night.

"Jesus Christ," exclaimed Niall as he walked out of the barn with the others. "Did you see Louis throw that bloke clear across the room?"

Johnny chuckled. "Well, it wasn't exactly _across the room,_ but he shucked him outta the way, alright."

"What happened?" asked Leo.

"Aw, some drunk dude was hasslin' Harry," Louis said shortly, not wanting to tell Leo what the man's intentions had been.

"I think he was jealous we got a new ranch hand," Johnny said quickly, so as to cut the conversation short. Harry could see that Johnny and Louis, once again, were working together. You didn't get much of anything past Johnny.

"Where you guys been?" asked Niall of Louis and Harry.

"I wanted a smoke," volunteered Louis, looking to Harry, his eyes silently beseeching.

"And I needed a bit of soberin' up, yeah?" Harry rallied, filling in the rest nicely and smoothly.

 _Yeah, the kid definitely wasn't stupid_ , thought Louis.

"You look sober now," said Leo.

"Yeah, we've been walkin' and talkin.' It was loud in that barn," Louis hoped he didn't sound guilty. Didn't matter anyway, as he hadn't done a damn thing, and even if he had, it was no one's business.

Johnny gazed at the two of them with interest, and both Harry and Louis were aware of his subtle scrutiny.

The ride back to the ranch found Harry staring off into the distance, wishing he and Louis were still strolling around the barn, talking. He could have done that until the sun came up.

By now, Harry was becoming more proficient with a rope, and could land a loop on most stationary objects most of the time, but still had no luck with moving objects. The others seemed to think he was coming along fine. He just needed more time and lots more patience, they kept telling him. By the roundup next spring, Johnny said he would probably be able to rope some of the calves himself. Right now, Harry was working on roping his own mount for the day's work. He hadn't been successful yet. All he'd succeeded in doing so far was to spook the remuda, only to find his rope landing harmlessly in the red Texas dirt with nothing on the end of it.

Shadow Bear, the ranch dog patiently allowed Harry to practice on her, but soon grew weary of Harry's habit of landing the hoop with a plunk on her back, or even worse, her nose, and soon went to lay down in the shade.

Sunday, Harry took time to call home, read a bit and generally just lazed around with the others, listening to stories, some of which he couldn't help but doubt. They were a little _too_ hairy and reckless to be swallowed.

Johnny informed him that the man who sold horses would be coming by next weekend, and he was welcome to look the animals over for a mount of his own. Harry could hardly wait. Maybe he would be lucky enough to find the horse of his dreams in the trailer stuffed with unfortunate equines who had no place to call home.

On Monday, their last day off, Louis decided it was time Harry learned to ride a horse while it was cutting a cow from a herd. He took Harry to a large paddock where he had driven a small bunch of gentle cows inside that he had hand- picked for the lesson. They were cows that Harry could practice on, he explained. Not so tame that they had no respect for horses, yet not rank enough to be difficult for the horse to work.

He explained that Harry could get thrown much more easily trying to work a cow that was resentful and sly. The horse would have to make much harder turns. A cow that had no respect for horses—what the cowboys called sour, would be useless because the cow would not try to avoid the horse. Louis had tried to select cows that were somewhere in the middle of these two extremes; not an easy thing to do.

"You'll get thrown sooner or later anyway," he stated. "There's just no way 'round it. But I'll be right here in case you get into trouble."

Harry listened avidly to his boss' instructions as he mounted Joaquin. The big Appaloosa was one of the best cutters on the ranch, and wouldn't lose his head if Harry were to get off balance or fall off. The horse was so tall that Harry had to stretch to reach the stirrup. How in hell did Louis manage it? His legs were a lot shorter than Harry's. Louis was so agile though—Harry had seen him vault onto Joaquin without even using the near stirrup.

As soon as Harry settled into the saddle, he was acutely aware of the harnessed power beneath him. The big gelding felt like a coiled spring, and with all his muscling, he was quite a bit wider in girth than any other horse Harry had ever ridden. If he had thought Latigo was a lot of horse, Joaquin was in a class by himself.

"He's an honest horse. He'll take care of you." Harry knew that "honest" meant that Joaquin would do what was asked of him, and not veer off course, trying to get out of work. This was a much sought after trait in working ranch horses.

 _A lot of good it'll do me though_ , thought Harry, since he wasn't even sure how to ask the horse to do anything. Harry was nervous—he had to admit it.

"If you fall, he'll stop. But he's not a miracle worker. You still have to learn on your own." Louis looked faintly apprehensive as he gave Harry the go-ahead to cut out a cow from the small herd. His boss' look of uncertainty did nothing to boost Harry's confidence. Or lack thereof. Harry knew why Louis was concerned—he was afraid Harry would get hurt. Well, if he'd lived through the branding, he could do this. Louis had explained every step prior to this, but this was something you had to experience to fully understand and be able to apply what you'd learned. You had to learn it by _doing_ it.

As Harry walked Joaquin quietly into the herd the way Louis had told him to do, the horse's ears flicked back, waiting for a signal from his rider. He didn't yet know what a rookie he was carrying. Harry picked out a cow, then laid the rein against Joaquin's neck the way Louis had showed him to signal to the horse that this was the cow he desired. Joaquin calmly eased the cow away from the others, then after that, everything was a blur.

The cow, aware now that the horse was between herself and her friends, naturally tried to go around the horse's bulk. Joaquin pinned his ears back and blocked her path. The cow then decided to bolt to the far end of the paddock and try to sneak by. Joaquin dug his hooves into the dirt as he swung around and took off after her.

The horse felt like a launching rocket. Gravity flung Harry back in the saddle, but he leaned forward to stay with the motion of the horse. Harry only managed to keep his seat by sheer will. Louis had not shortened the stirrups quite enough, so Harry had to stretch a bit to keep his feet firmly anchored. Louis said this would be beneficial as far as Harry staying in the saddle.

When they reached the end of the fence, Joaquin stopped on a dime and planted his feet, waiting for the cow's next move. Harry clutched the horn with a death grip and held the reins loosely in the other hand, just as Louis had told him to do, although all he wanted to do was haul back on them to stop the horse. He wanted off this spine jarring roller coaster!

Proud he'd made it this far, Harry glanced over at Louis for a split second. Louis was standing there rigidly, looking very unlike himself. This was as close to nervous as Harry would probably ever see him, he mused.

Right then, the cow decided to swap ends and try to dive past Joaquin from the other direction. This required the gelding to twist around and jump out in the opposite direction. Harry remembered too late Louis' warning to never take his eye off the cow. Even with his desperate choke hold on the horn, the horse's jump gave him a terrific jolt and tore his grip away. That was all it took to launch the beginning of the end. Joaquin took off like a locomotive, leaving Harry to hit the dirt so fast he couldn't believe he was already on the ground.

Unhurt, but momentarily dazed, Harry looked up at Joaquin, who had come to a dead stop just as Louis had said he would. The horse heaved a giant sigh and looked over at his owner with what Harry could swear looked like disgust. As if he were thinking, _this greenhorn just spoiled my fun._


	17. Chapter 17

"You okay, mate?" were the first words out of Louis' mouth.

"Uh, yeah," Harry practically choked as he spit wads of dust out of his mouth.

"Remember, I told you to _push_ on the horn, not _pull_ on it. That keeps you from fallin' forward when the horse stops. And if you watch the cow, you can anticipate what she's gonna do. You took your eyes off her." Louis didn't sound angry, but it was clear he was disturbed that Harry had not followed his instructions—and maybe a touch of worry lurked there too.

Louis offered a hand, and Harry took it so Louis could haul him up off the ground.

"Joaquin sure has a lot of get up and go," Harry mumbled, a little frazzled. That had been an understatement!

"That's why he's one of the best. He takes cuttin' seriously."

Harry mounted again. And fell off again. Three times. But at the end of an hour, under Louis' tutoring, he was at least able to stay in the saddle.

It wasn't the pretty, flowing picture Louis presented when cutting cattle, Harry knew, but at least he wasn't sprawled in the dust. When the lesson ended, Harry's respect for cowboys had climbed yet another notch.

His back felt wrenched, his legs cramped and painful from gripping the saddle, his hands were red and blistered from pushing on the horn to stay seated, and his neck felt as if it were twisted beyond repair.

But he could sit a cutting horse. Well, at least one that was working easy cows. Joaquin had been a patient teacher, enduring Harry's constant mistakes with grace, respecting his tentative authority, attempting to make things easier for Harry; at least as much as a horse could. He nuzzled Harry now, as if in apology for jerking him around so. A very tough but deceivingly gentle mount. Harry was sheepishly admitting to himself, as he had before only weeks ago that the horse and its owner were very much alike.

The next Friday night, the hands decided to go into town. They would have Saturday off again now that the worst of the spring work had been tackled. They offered to take Harry, but he'd heard them talking earlier about some wild times when visiting bars, and he decided he'd rather stick around the ranch. Maybe he'd hit town tomorrow, but considering some of the stories they'd told, he just didn't feel like tagging along when he knew they'd be drinking to excess.

Harry sat outside of the bunkhouse, watching the glorious Texas sunset in awe. It was varying shades of red, pink and orange. Working as much as he had in the previous weeks, he was not often able to just sit, relax and enjoy something as simple as the spectacular sunsets. He was always busy eating dinner or taking a shower in preparation for bed.

But despite the long hours and hard work, never for a minute did Harry lose his enthusiasm for this job that he had been so fortunate to get. The roundup had often brought ten and eleven hour days that never seemed to end, but the happy, easy companionship with the other hands made a difficult job so much easier.

He was amazed that they all got along so well, and worked together so smoothly even when tempers grew short toward the end of the day. Someone might make a time-consuming mistake, and tempers would flare with a short outburst, but things would always be back to normal before you really even had time to think about it.

Louis did not abuse his authority, and never interfered when any of the cowboys would disagree about something. For the most part, he left them to work out their problems on their own, unless a serious confrontation arose. Then a few stern words from him were all that was needed. Even so, it rarely happened. They were almost like a family.

Harry idly reached down to ruffle Shadow Bear's head, and the dog relaxed blissfully beside him as he sat in the lawn chair. The ranch hands had piled into one of the ranch trucks and roared off to town ten minutes ago, asking him if there was anything he needed in town before they left.

Harry would cash his check at the bank tomorrow—it was open half of the day, even though Johnny had offered to cash it for him tonight. He didn't want to trouble Johnny any more than he had to. He still felt guilty that Johnny had spent a good portion of the night of the dance watching over him instead of enjoying himself like the others. Harry, most of all, didn't want to be a burden.

Harry had taken a long shower before the hands had gotten ready to leave, and his hair smelled pleasant as it fluttered across his face with a gentle breeze. He loved being clean. Working on a ranch didn't go hand in hand with it, and it felt luxurious to bask in his own clean, soapy smell for longer than just overnight. It was always take care of your horse, eat dinner, shower, and go to bed. Then get stinky again in the morning within an hour after rising. This change in routine was very welcome.

The nights were a bit warmer now that it was June, and the days were slowly beginning to become hot with the coming of summer. But it was a dry heat, being in the west of Texas—much like Southern California.

With no work tomorrow, so there was no reason for Harry to hurry to bed. For once, he was going to stay up late. He was naturally a night owl, and always had been. Feeling thirsty, he walked over to the bunkhouse to get a soft drink. Entering the building, he noticed the light was burning near the table, where the hands ate dinner or played cards. He just assumed they had left it on for their return late tonight. Or more likely, in the wee hours of the morning.

As soon as he was inside, Harry saw a form sitting at the table. Startled, he gasped. He had just assumed all the hands had gone to town. But one remained. Just his luck too, he thought sarcastically. It was Louis. The two got on well most of the time, but Louis, as always, had his sassy moods, and Harry hoped he wasn't in one tonight.

In a flash, he wondered if Louis had stayed home on purpose, knowing Harry was staying home. No! Why even allow such a daft thing to enter his head? Louis wasn't interested in him in that way. He was straight. Then he remembered the guys had only taken one truck to town. There wasn't room for five guys on the bench seat, and none had been in the truck bed. He should have realized someone had stayed behind, but hadn't been paying attention.

"Oh . . . I thought everyone went to town," Harry couldn't stop his eyes from wandering over that lean, muscled frame. Fresh out of the shower, Louis' hair was damp, and his shirt was buttoned only a little more than halfway up. His tan skin looked arrestingly touchable under the light.

Well, at least he hadn't walked in just as Louis had gotten in or out of the shower, thought Harry. He didn't want a repeat of that time Louis had enjoyed teasing him with threatening to undress in front of him.

"I didn't feel like goin'. Same old thing." Then Harry saw the bottle of whiskey sitting on the table. Louis looked the same way he always did when not working—totally in control and exasperatingly indolent.

"You're drinkin,'" Harry said without thinking.

 _So what if he's drinking—it's none of your business,_ he said to himself.

"Yeah. So?" Well, it was fairly obvious Louis was indeed moody and didn't want to be disturbed.

"Oh, sorry. I was just surprised. I just came in to get a drink." As Harry walked past the rancher to the refrigerator, he instantly felt a pair of startlingly pure blue eyes rake over him. A slight shiver skated over his skin. He attempted a casual air. Taking a soft drink from the shelf, he closed the refrigerator door and started to walk back to the door.

"Where you goin'?" Louis' voice cut through him. Harry nearly jumped out of his boots.

"Oh, uh, back to me lawn chair, yeah? I don't think you're wantin' company."

"Sit down and talk to me awhile. Unless you're busy, or want to be alone or sommat."

He _had_ to be drunk to say that. Louis never outright asked Harry to talk to him. For idle conversation, anyway. Conversations were always work related. Then again, they only saw each other when they were working, and always with other people. Their barn dance conversation had been a special occasion.

Louis gave no appearance of being tipsy. Against his better judgment, Harry sat down in a chair beside his boss. He had to follow his boss' orders, didn't he? He felt like he was infringing for some reason.

Harry looked at the whiskey bottle. It was a little over half full. Had Louis drank that much by himself? As if reading his thoughts, Louis said, "The guys wanted to drink in the bars, so this bottle is all mine." he smiled slightly, mischief playing with his lips. Then immediately after, "You want some? I'll get you a glass." Louis started to get up.

"No, no. I don't want to drink all your whiskey." Harry's attempt at a joke did not get a laugh. It should have, since Louis knew Harry didn't drink a lot.

"There's plenty of bottles, but I don't make a practice of tryin' to get anyone drunk either. So you can just drink your soda pop, or whatever you want."

Harry took the opportunity to study the man's face as Louis looked toward the window facing the pastures that held the young stock. He was ruggedly handsome, but Harry already knew every angle and plane of his face. He just enjoyed looking.

A lock of Louis' damp hair hung over his forehead onto his brow. His hair looked a lot darker when it was wet. Somewhere between bronze and copper.

Harry's gaze moved to his forearms, exposed by the rolled up sleeves of his chambray shirt. They were lightly covered with bronze hair. Not even bothering to war within himself, Harry let his gaze settle on the swatch of chest that was exposed by the partially unbuttoned shirt. The hair there, the same color as the hair on his arms, made Harry's breath catch and lodge in his throat.

That ribbon of desire began snaking in his abdomen and lower, spreading steadily outward, slowly, leisurely, until it took over his entire body, down to his toes and fingertips.

The urge to reach out and stroke that chest was so strong that Harry clasped his hands in his lap to make certain his fingers didn't take it upon themselves to seek out and roam over the muscles he knew were hidden under the man's shirt.

Louis' corded forearms tightened as he lifted his hand to the bottle and took a healthy swig. He looked up into bright green orbs and saw that Harry had been watching him. The blush came over Harry so fast that he didn't even have time to look away in an attempt to conceal it.

But under the harsh light directly over them, he could not have hidden it anyway. Louis set the bottle back down, and in a blind panic, Harry was aware that he had the same look he thought he'd seen on the rancher's face once before. That hooded, bedroom eyes look, and as if he needed convincing, the blue in them had deepened. Harry had the uneasy feeling Louis was dealing with some type of strong emotion.

Harry wondered if Louis was aroused, but speculating the rancher was aroused was just that . . . speculation.

"Why were you lookin' at me like that just now?" Louis got right to the point, not holding back. And Harry wondered if it was the booze that was talking, even though Louis showed no signs of even slight intoxication. His voice was strangely husky, barely louder than a whisper, and smooth as velvet, lacking the usual rasp.

The raw, crackly edge to his unique voice wasn't present when Louis talked this softly.

Harry fidgeted desperately, wanting to look anywhere but into those eyes that had always entranced him since that first day he'd looked into them at the Jubilee. Those eyes seemed to pull him, trying to reel him in.

"I don't know." God, did he feel awkward! But he didn't know how to answer the question honestly without incriminating himself.

"Just tryin' to understand you, I guess." That was the best he could come up with.

"Understand what?" Why was Louis throwing unsettling questions at him?

"You're a lot different when you're not workin'," Harry was floundering to say something with substance, but everything seemed to come out as mysterious sounding as Louis' questions.

Louis leaned back, taking another swig from the bottle, then held it with the tips of his fingers near the floor.

"Yeah, I learned a long time ago to separate work from leisure . . . pleasure, or what have you. Otherwise you go loco, burn out."

"As driven as you are, I can see your point," Harry said in what he hoped was a pragmatic tone.

"It's the only way to get anywhere. You won't get what you want if you don't apply yourself, give it your all. But when you're not workin', you gotta give that your all too. Seems to me _you_ give work your all, but you haven't learned how to let go at other times."

Louis' words cut through Harry with their glaring truth. He was observant, for sure. A little too observant for Harry to be comfortable with. He was right on the mark. Harry was uptight way too often when around Louis. It made him uneasy to be in the presence of a man who had the ability not only to instinctively know what he was thinking, but also to cut to the essence with little effort. It had been a big issue with Harry for a long time—his inability to completely relax and enjoy himself.

Glancing into his eyes and then at the bottle that was now more than half empty, Harry wondered how in the world Louis could be so apparently sober. His words were clearly enunciated and his eyes, although hooded, were bright and fully aware. _Too_ aware.

"Yeah, I guess I'm a little uptight, yeah? But I'm workin' on it."

Louis sat there openly pondering him, and the urge to get up and run was quickly gaining the upper hand. What was he thinking now? Harry felt scrutinized clear through to the bone. He felt naked, his soul ripped wide open for Louis' searching eyes. Harry couldn't meet his gaze—it was physically impossible.

"Look at me, Harry. What are you squirmin' about?"

Now Harry realized his boss must be at least a little high, otherwise he would never be talking to him like that. It wasn't his style. At least, it _hadn't_ been, until tonight. Loosened inhibitions would explain his frankness.

But still, he was impeded in no other way, Harry saw as Louis pushed himself away from the table, set down the bottle and grabbed himself a soda from the fridge. His walk was not the least bit unsteady.

The rancher sat back down. "Well, I'm waitin.'" Harry had hoped he had forgotten the course of the conversation.

"I don't know. I guess you're bein' a lot more intense than I've ever seen you, and I don't know how to respond."

"I'm not there yet, but I'm on the way to gettin' drunk. I get outspoken and too upfront when I drink."

Harry nodded. "I didn't know you drank a lot."

"I don't; not often anyway."

"Why are you drinkin' tonight?" His question was too prying, but it was too late to take it back.

Louis considered this for a moment. If what he had said a minute ago was true, Harry should get an honest answer from him.

Louis stroked his lightly bristled cheeks thoughtfully, and it looked to Harry as if he was weighing something in his mind.

"Want the truth?"

"What do you think? I wouldn't have asked you a question if I didn't want you to answer truthfully."

Harry could hardly believe he was talking to Louis so boldly, but, at the same time, he got the feeling the man liked it. Louis' openness was infectious.

Louis smiled in appreciation of Harry's candor.

"You're not as guarded with me as you used to be. Alright then. I'll tell you."

Suddenly there was a sound near the bunk house door. They both turned their heads and listened. There it was again. Someone or something was moving right outside the door. All the ranch hands were in town, and Cookie and Nora had retired for the night at least an hour ago.

"Shit!" Louis vaulted from his chair quicker than Harry thought was humanly possible, kicked open a cabinet nearby and grabbed something from inside. A second later, Harry realized what it was when he saw the light glint off silver grey. A gun.

Harry's heart in his throat, he watched, paralyzed with horror as Louis approached the door at an angle, then threw it open, aiming the muzzle of the .357 Magnum into the night. Even through his terror, Harry saw how confidently he held the weapon, and knew straight away that he was thoroughly familiar with firearms.

Shadow Bear's nose poked around the door to peer inside. Louis let out an audible sigh of relief and sagged against the door frame for a moment to collect himself. Then he honored the dog with a wide smile that caused his eyes to crinkle at the ends.

"Pretty girl, you scared the shit outta me!" he patted her and stepped aside to let her come inside. Then he shut the door and regarded Harry with a sheepish grin.

Harry sat mute, in quite a state of shock and unable to utter a word. Louis sat back down beside him after he had replaced the revolver in the cabinet.

"Sorry about that, Harry. I guess I overreacted. I should have known it was the dog. You'd think I would after livin' around her for years, but all I could think of was everyone was gone. Me imagination took over." He looked meek as a kitten, and quite abashed.

When Harry's heart stopped racing, he found himself appreciating Louis' humility over his extreme exaggeration to the perceived danger. It was the first time Harry had ever seen Louis admit to any weakness.

Louis' shy grin turned Harry's insides to liquid. And if that wasn't enough, Louis' eyes snapped and sparkled with intense blue. Those eyes were the devil's own. Harry could get lost in them and never find his way out.

Where had the brash, sarcastic, cynical Louis gone? A playful, impish attitude had taken its place. He was so much more . . _. approachable._

"Happy days," Louis said, and Harry knew inherently that Louis, in his embarrassment, was trying to fabricate conversation.

"So . . . let's talk," Louis said next, eyes undeviating and fastened on Harry.

Harry could do that.

 _Oh yeah, that would suit him just fine._


	18. Chapter 18

"You surprised me at the barn dance," Louis continued.

"I did?"

"Yeah, you weren't so demure—you actually opened up a little."

"You didn't terrorize me that night," Harry grinned to soften his sentiment.

Louis chuckled. "Are you saying I'm a bully?"

"No. Just very driven and exacting."

"I try not to be like that while not on the job, as you can see, so relax." Louis looked just a little woeful.

"But I'm your employee, and I'm not sure how I should act."

"Look, Harry. I'm the owner of the ranch. So what? It doesn't make me any different than you or any of the other employees. It doesn't make me better than you, or above you. I work _alongside_ you because I want us to be equals. But, of course, you still have to follow orders." Louis smiled, showing his impish side, and Harry's thinking was more muddled than ever.

"So, you don't mind if I talk to you like a friend?"

"Of course not. We _are_ friends—at least I'd like us to be. I'd be pleased if you'd act around me the way Johnny does. You've seen us jokin' 'round and teasin' each other. Just because I happen to be your boss doesn't mean you need to be afraid of me, or be intimidated by me."

Hand shaking slightly, Harry reached to and lifted the bottle of whiskey, sending a questioning look Louis' way. Louis nodded silently. Harry took a couple of swigs.

"What? Liquid courage to talk to me? I hope not. You hadn't had much to drink at the barn dance, and you talked to me then," Louis perused Harry with a critical eye.

"Just a little nervous," admitted Harry.

"That's fine. I see no problem with that. I just don't want you shrinkin' away from me."

Harry had no defense, and worse, no will power. Louis turned him on. It was that simple. He couldn't tell Louis that though. Louis wouldn't understand. And he most assuredly wasn't going to tell Louis he felt drawn to him, had to fight himself not to touch the man, because he'd scare Louis into firing him.

"That's potent stuff. Be careful," Louis cautioned as Harry took another big swig. Harry pushed the bottle toward Louis.

"I think that's enough to calm me nerves," he announced.

"My God, am I _that_ much of a dictator?"

"Not at all. I'm just timid," Harry was proud of himself for spouting all this honesty at his boss.

Maybe he was finally going to be able to worm his way under Louis' hard exterior. He'd love to dig into all the man's dark corners and discover the real Louis Tomlinson. But he knew it would take time to acquire the man's trust. The thought of trying gave Harry a very heady feeling.

Louis had been such an enigma—it had been frustrating not knowing what he was really like under his distant reserve. Harry couldn't keep making assumptions though. It was time he learned to take the initiative and not be so damned meek. He needed to just enjoy the fact that the man was talking to him minus some of his emotional shield, and hope that things continued to get better.

Those green eyes were searing a hole in him again. Louis doubted Harry even comprehended that he was staring at him. He had to admit that when he was around Harry, he felt like partially melted butter—so completely enamored with Harry's appeal.

Harry's smile was his biggest asset and deadliest weapon. He was a Prince Charming, but Louis suspected he also had a side of dark intensity. If that were so, then he was everything in one package.

And those eyes! A little darker than mint, and sometimes as dark as the rainforest. Harry was still growing on Louis, and it almost paralyzed him. He didn't think it was possible to like the young man any more than he already did. But sitting here tonight, just looking at him made Louis feel drugged.

Neither one was talking, Louis now drinking soda exclusively, having pushed the bottle of whiskey to the back of the table, out of reach of the both of them. He didn't trust himself not to take advantage of a drunk Harry.

He remembered how, when he'd taken one last ride out to the far pastures to check on the stock before his shower, he'd shifted uncomfortably in the saddle, trying to ease the ache of his swollen desire. He hadn't been this hugely hard, this achingly painful in many years.

He had groaned to himself, and attempted to adjust his stiffness, but his tight jeans made that impossible. He'd caught a glimpse of Harry sitting in a lawn chair tonight, watching the sunset, and that had triggered his frightful erection again. Actually, just _thinking_ about Harry triggered it.

Harry searched his mind desperately for any kind of distraction when their eyes met yet again. It was difficult to breathe. It was difficult to do _anything_ except look at Louis. He pried his eyes away with a gargantuan effort and fixed his gaze on Shadow Bear lying at their feet.

"Where did she get her name?" Anything to get Louis to stop looking at him as if he knew every secret Harry harbored.

Louis shook himself mentally to clear the rapidly gathering cobwebs in his brain. The liquor was finally catching up to him, even though he had stopped drinking it nearly half an hour ago.

"Oh, when we got her as a wee puppy, we couldn't agree on a name. Poor dog; she went almost a week without a name. I wanted to call her Shadow because she followed us everywhere. Johnny wanted to call her Bear. He had a Shepherd named Bear when he was a kid. We finally compromised and, hence her name, Shadow Bear."

Louis was talking at a patently slower pace than a short while ago. Louis always talked quickly, so this was peculiar sounding to Harry's ears, as _he_ had always been the one to talk slowly. Nothing in Louis' manner indicated he was becoming drunk except that he was dialed down, and his Donny accent was more pronounced. He was one of those people, Harry surmised, who was able to appear sober no matter how much they might drink.

"Well, that explains it. I'd been wonderin' if she used to be an Indian's dog or sommat."

Louis laughed. That was another subtle attestation of his growing intoxication—he was laughing much more than Harry had ever seen him do, even with the other ranch hands. He was also right about the whiskey. Even though Harry had taken only had a few swigs, a delectable warmth blanketed him. How Louis could have consumed over half a bottle and not be falling down on the floor was beyond the Cheshire lad.

There was another effect of the liquor that disturbed Harry greatly. He felt a touch of the same sensations he'd had at the barn dance while walking and talking with Louis. There was no doubt now that liquor made Harry amorous, and he couldn't afford to feel that way here, tonight, alone with Louis. On second thought, just being in Louis' presence made Harry want him, but liquor on top of that made things very nearly unbearable.

"Tell me more about yourself," offered Louis. "All you said last time I asked was that you liked bananas." There was that lazy, slightly smug smile again.

"Well, I was born in Manchester," said Harry, glad to have something to occupy his mind. "And when I was young, we moved to Cheshire. Holmes Chapel. Me dad died when I was fifteen. Not sure if I told you that already. I got a job in a bakery, and didn't do much of anythin' when I first graduated high school until I decided to go to school to become a vet tech. I had dreams of becoming a vet someday, but me grades weren't good enough for that. I never studied and daydreamed me way through high school," he said shyly. "I came to America, needin' a change."

"So I got me vet technician certification and got a job in a vet hospital. Worked there a few years, realized there was no chance for advancement, then decided I had to get away, and that's how I ended up in Texas, lookin' for a job."

He'd given Louis an abbreviated version, for fear of boring the man. But, instead of looking bored, Louis was practically drilling into him with those piercing blue eyes.

"So you went after what you wanted . . . " Louis sounded as if he was talking to himself.

"Yeah, I guess so. I followed me dream." Harry's turn to smile this time, recalling once again that he'd pursued and captured his dream. "Ranch life and horses, open spaces," he added.

"Your mum alive?"

"Yes. I call her quite often. She's worried about me."

"I bet she is," Louis had a strange faraway look in his eyes.

"Your mum?" asked Harry.

"Died when I was little. Me dad raised me. We moved here to Texas when I was a teenager, and he bought this ranch. As you know, he died a few years ago and left the ranch to me."

Harry took a sudden, deep breath, suppressing a gasp before it could culminate. Louis had lost both parents, and he was only twenty-five! Harry's mind swept over some of Louis' past behaviors. He'd read a lot of psychology books, and now Louis' conduct was making a little more sense to him. The guy must feel lost—at least some of the time. He might still be somewhat numb too. Harry could not imagine not having his own mother. No wonder Louis was closed off sometimes! He had erected a protective barrier.

"I'm the only child, obviously. I have a few relatives in England, but I don't see any of 'em much," Louis rushed to explain, apparently afraid Harry felt sorry for him. And he couldn't _stand_ that.

"I know it's intimidatin' to come to a different country when you're young, and I'm guessin' we were about the same age," Harry said. "But can you go visit them now and then? I mean, Johnny could fill in for you, couldn't he?"

"I have control issues, if you haven't noticed. I know Johnny would handle it fine, but I really don't like leavin' the ranch. Me dad was the same way." That faraway look was evolving in Louis' eyes again, and it made Harry uneasy.

"You have siblings?" Louis asked.

"Yeah, one sister. I don't see her much. She's a little older than me, and married."

Suddenly, Harry remembered a question he had asked Louis earlier that he had gotten no response to. Instead of stopping and telling Louis how sorry he was about his parents—which he would normally do, but had a feeling wouldn't be a good idea, Harry transitioned to another subject, and the recall was very convenient at this touchy moment.

"Hey, you were goin' to tell me why you were drinkin' tonight when we heard the dog outside. You never answered."

Louis sighed and leaned back in his chair until it balanced on two legs. This was something he'd evidently been doing for many years. The only thing keeping him from tipping over was his hand lightly gripping the edge of the table.

"I was hopin' you'd forget."

With that comment, Louis grabbed his grey Stetson that was sitting on the table with his unoccupied hand and jammed it onto his head, pulling the brim low so his eyes were cast in shadow.

"No, don't do that." Harry pulled the hat back off, quite pleased with himself at his pluckiness. "I've seen you do that before. You're doin' it so I can't see the expression in your eyes."

Louis let a smile develop slowly, allowing a certain sensuality in, unaware that it was teasing Harry horridly, making his temperature climb much higher than the booze ever could.

"I'm gonna hate meself tomorrow," he said softly, as if speaking to himself as he gazed at the floor. He looked back up at Harry again. "I'm not exactly at ease discussin' personal issues."

"I asked you why you were drinkin', not about a personal issue."

"That _is_ a personal issue, unfortunately."

"You're talkin' in riddles. You want us to be friends, right? So just answer me question, and stop tryin' to distract me."

 _Oh, Harry was bright alright._ It wasn't so much that he put on a dumb act—it was just that his innocence made him appear a little dense at times.

Louis chuckled, tipped back a bit too far, and momentarily lost his grip on the edge of the table. Ordinarily, he would have been able to catch himself, but the whiskey had slowed his reactions just enough to prevent him from seizing the table edge in his hand fast enough to keep from teetering.

As if in slow motion, the chair paused for a beat, then crashed over backward onto the floor. Harry, watching on, was helpless to assist. It had happened too quickly. Louis lay there, looking up at the ceiling, avoiding Harry's eyes. Harry could only stare, speechless and shocked to the core, his hand over his mouth, eyes wide. Only with a monumental effort did he keep himself from laughing the way Niall did when something was hilarious.

For the first time since he'd been thrown from his horse at their first meeting, Louis looked undignified. He continued to lay sprawled on the floor mutely for a few seconds, then slowly, so slowly, looked directly into Harry's eyes.

Suddenly, he exploded into high spirited, helpless giggles. That was all it took to loose the dam of hysterics Harry was holding in. They allowed the laughter to take over. Like magic, it stripped away the last of their defenses. It felt glorious to abandon themselves to the moment. Life was much too serious, and they both clutched this opportunity to act like carefree children.

When Louis was finally able to catch his breath and find the power of speech again, he pointed a forefinger at Harry.

"You better never breathe a word about this to the other hands. I'll never live it down if you do, yeah?"

"Don't worry, boss. Your self-respect will remain intact."

Harry shook off the last remaining fits of giggles and offered his hand to help Louis up. Still on his back, Louis didn't look to be in any hurry to get off the floor. A moment later, Harry discovered why.

Accepting Harry's offer, Louis, instead of using Harry's hand for support to rise, pulled instead, and Harry, unprepared for it, had no time to brace himself, lost his balance and toppled on top of his boss. He landed on Louis' chest, a fresh burst of laughter exploding. Louis said, "That'll teach ya to tip me chair over."

"I didn't! _You_ did!" countered Harry, trying desperately to stem the flow of yet more laughter But every time he was almost able to squelch it, Louis would manage to encourage him anew. Harry was astounded at this lighthearted side of his boss. Louis Tomlinson, playful? He never thought he'd see the day.

"Okay, maybe I did, but you're laughin' about it!"

" _You_ started laughin' first! Quit tryin' to blame everythin' on me."

"Want me to tip _you_ over in a chair?"

"No, I'm already on the floor as it is, thanks to you," sassed Harry.

With a mock growl, Louis flipped Harry over, following his body with his own until Harry was pinned under him. Harry was overwhelmed at how easily he had done it, too. All in one, smooth movement. Harry giggled and squirmed to free himself, trying to ignore that warm, hard body over his. It was starting to affect him . . .

"Say it's not funny!"

"Say what's not funny?" Harry feigned innocence, acting coy coming naturally to him.

"Me fallin' backwards!"

"But it is funny. Your dignity is gone. Poof!"

"No, it's not. Just for that, I'm not gonna let you up." Louis probably weighed roughly the same as Harry; and even though Harry was taller, Louis had all the power, all the muscle.

"No fair! I haven't a chance!" mock pled Harry, opening his eyes wide and pouting slightly. He liked this game. He liked it very much.

There were a few moments of silence as Louis thought about what to hassle Harry about next. But a few moments was all it took for the atmosphere to shift drastically. In less than a few heartbeats, a tension enveloped them like smoke.

 _The smoke that came before the flame._

Harry stopped fighting to get Louis off him. He no longer wanted the rancher to let him up. Well, to be truthful, he hadn't _had_ a desire to get back up at all. Of everything he wanted in that moment, pushing Louis away was not one of them. He could stay here forever, underneath this body that felt much too good, so solid, deliciously sensual.

The incredible heat emanating from Louis' body heightened Harry's awareness of just how male he was. His chest against Harry's . . . his hands pressing Harry's shoulders down, and it felt as if Louis could crush him with his power, although Harry knew that was actually rubbish. It just _felt_ that way. And it was exciting in a way Harry had not encountered before.

Even as an inner alarm went off, Louis couldn't seem to do a damn thing about it. That alarm was meant to warn him against the animal magnetism that seemed to crackle between them. Never, after years of ranch hands coming and going, had Louis felt any attraction toward any of them. But this attraction to Harry felt instantly lethal.

Louis disregarded the warning bells going off in his head, and brought his hand to Harry's cheek, lingering in the air for a moment, hesitant. Their eyes caught, and held. Pure blue on undiluted green. Harry didn't move a millimeter, afraid even to breathe. Louis' knuckles moved against Harry's cheek, barely grazing it, then his fingers slowly uncurled, and he began stroking Harry's cheek with his fingertips.

Louis was enchanted at the strangely erotic feel of soft, yet slightly stubbly skin. Certainly not as stubbly as his own. Again, something within him tried to flag his awareness down. A stop sign was needed, a warning. But even so, and against his will, he lowered his head ever so slightly. And then a bit more. He hovered, giving Harry the opportunity to refuse him, to turn his head away if he so desired. But instead, he was stunned when Harry sighed, and then seemed to slightly lift his own head, eyes closed, full lips eager.

A whine seemed to come from somewhere far away, pulling them out of the moment. Shadow Bear scratched at the door. She hadn't liked the chair falling over, and wanted back outside. Everything stopped on a dime.

 _Gone. The moment was gone._

Roughly, Louis cleared his throat and thrust himself off Harry, going to the door to open it for the dog. Then he passed Harry and righted his chair, sitting back down on it, neglecting to offer Harry his hand to help him up.

The feeling in the pit of Harry's stomach defied any description words could give it. He was crushed, devastated.

At the same time, the harsh, unwelcome reality slapped Louis in the face. Trying to form thoughts and then issue words from his mouth was all but impossible. But he knew that the sooner he said something, the easier it would be. When his voice finally found purchase, he sounded hoarse, breathless.

"Now I'll tell you why I was drinkin.' I didn't want to go into town and hit the bars, dance with superficial, fake women who are just out partyin' and lookin' for a guy to take home. I'm sick and tired of that." He scrubbed his face with a hand. "After the guys left, and I stayed home, I realized me mistake. I got scared about you and me being the only ones here. I was afraid of bein' . . . tempted, so I started to drink, hopin' I'd get drunk quick, and then I could go to sleep. I was tryin' to drown me feelings too. But it didn't work out that way. The more I drank, the more I thought about . . ."

Harry got up slowly after Louis' sentence had trailed off. That confession . . . it must have been oppressive for Louis, at the very least. He sounded and acted like a different person tonight. The booze had acted like a truth serum, and Harry was gobsmacked..

 _I get outspoken and too upfront when drunk._

Louis had said those words once. He'd dug his own hole.

It was too much for Harry to process. His head spun with Louis' last paragraph of near-confessions. Louis had just about literally admitted he was attracted—"tempted" is the word he'd used, to Harry. It couldn't possibly be true, could it? Harry's mind was overcome with wonder. Had he heard him right?

Now, letting Louis know he could trust Harry with his feelings was of paramount importance . . .

"Well, um . . . like," but Harry couldn't think of the right words as he got up off the floor and sat down once again in his own chair.

Louis plunged ahead with a new onslaught of revelations. "I hadn't counted on you comin' in here. I lost me rigid control of meself, lost me head and couldn't keep from askin' you to stay and talk. That was me mistake. I'm not blamin' you—it's just that just seein' you was all it took for me to break."

 _Whoa!_

Harry wanted to give Louis no reason to regret his admission for a second, although he knew the rancher probably would in the morning, anyway. Letting Louis know he could trust him with his feelings continued to reign supreme in Harry's mind.

"It's alright. Nothin' happened," but his own words sounded hollow to himself. The unspoken truth was that they didn't _need_ to do anything. The temptation was still there, and would remain, at least on Harry's part, regardless if either, or both, of them yielded to it. But no, Harry wouldn't think of that right now.

Louis was disturbed, and Harry could see it in his every move. He was already regretting what he'd revealed. He also didn't look like he was going to say anything more, so Harry felt he had to coax him to communicate.

"It's airtight. You know I won't talk to anyone about it . . . I appreciate your honesty," Harry added.

"I don't . . . not many people have seen it," explained Louis. "Except maybe . . . Johnny. I think maybe he's known for a while."

Harry could only assume that, in his own subtle way, Louis was admitting to him that he was gay. Or at least had feelings for Harry. Had Johnny noticed how Harry himself felt? Knowing Johnny, probably.

"I had no idea," Harry knew what subject they were discussing, only it was under a veil at the same time. He needed to choose his words carefully, tip-toe around. Louis wasn't about to say it out loud, and Harry knew that. But he might as well have said it aloud, because there wasn't much room for doubt.

"It's ridin' me hard. You don't know how hard. It can't happen again. Not even the thoughts."

Louis ground out the last few words, hated the way he sounded. He trusted this kid—rather, this man, not to breathe a word to anyone. Knowing that fact, along with the liquor, had caused him to lose his head tonight. Lust was dangerous. But even more dangerous was the extreme fondness he felt for Harry. He wouldn't let himself drown in it, less it be at the expense of his sanity. He needed to be clear-headed. He felt its insidious influence though, but Harry was forbidden fruit. He wasn't a weak man, and he had to nip it in the bud.

Harry sat there with downcast eyes, afraid that anything he said might be damaging. He felt as if he'd just been submerged in ice water.

"I'd better get back to the main house," said Louis abruptly. It's gettin' late. Louis slipped out of the bunkhouse and walked to the main house and went to bed. But sleep would be a long time in coming.


	19. Chapter 19

_Oh God, what had he done?_ He'd practically told Harry he was gay! That damn alcohol had loosened his tongue, and in addition to how much he liked and admired Harry—well, it had just slipped out. He'd felt he could talk to him. Harry hadn't said much, except to reassure him and try to calm him. The worst . . . or maybe the best thing about it was that Harry had revealed nothing. It would have been horrible had Harry responded positively, and equally horrible had Harry said he was straight. So, in summation, Louis was left still wondering what Harry's status was. He wanted to know, but yet he didn't. Here he'd confessed something he'd never told anyone else to Harry, and Harry had supported him, yet had been careful not to give out any information on himself. Leaving Louis feeling like a big, fat fool.

Alone and in bed at last, Louis could abstain no longer. His desire had been trying to dominate him all day, and he was fresh out of will power. He reached down and grasped his rigid shaft in his hand. Starting out slowly, he teased himself, stroking languidly, fighting the thought at first, and then giving in to the image of another hand pleasing him instead. As he rapidly became more and more excited, quickly approaching a fever pitch, his breathing becoming labored, a beautiful face appeared unexpectedly before his closed eyes.

He didn't fight it. Being a naturally sensual man, he gave himself permission to enjoy it organically, fully. Just for now. It wasn't really happening, so why not savor it? His mouth slightly open, his head flung back, he began to moan softly.

Within a couple of minutes, Louis' back and hips arched of their own accord, his hand's pace quickened to lightning speed, he gasped, reached the pinnacle, then groaned loudly as he spilled his seed. He came hard. Violently. Months of pent up need. It went on and on, and all the while, brilliant green eyes danced behind his closed lids.

But now that it was over, he felt very little relief. In fact, within minutes, he was just as aroused as before. And he felt even worse about it than before. He didn't want to have to find release alone. It did nothing to satisfy his yearning. He felt so empty, so lonely. He ached to touch a certain someone, hold a certain someone. Damn! This was just the kind of agonizing distraction he could do without.

Looking at the clock and seeing it was only ten brought a blush to Louis' cheeks, even though he was alone. Had Harry believed for a second that he was really going to go to bed? No . . . Harry had to know how uncomfortable and miserable Louis felt . . . that he'd needed to escape.

Early the next morning there was a pounding at the bunkhouse door. Johnny's voice filtered in through the cracks.

"Harry, the horse trader is here." Harry looked around with eyes that he could barely open to see that every one of the bunk beds were empty. Johnny knew Harry slept naked, so that was why he hadn't entered. Harry was grateful too, as his underwear lay on the floor, and he'd have to slide down from his top bunk to get them.

He sat up, told Johnny he'd be right out, then immediately noticed his mouth was uncomfortably dry and he had a slight headache. He never woke up with a headache first thing in the morning. Then last night came back to him.

 _Oh shit._ The scene with Louis hit him smack in the face.

He hadn't been drunk, but he'd had a good buzz. He and Louis had almost . . . kissed. Oh God. Up until then, Harry really had had no clue that Louis was gay, or bi, or whatever he was, but the thought was terrifying no matter how you looked at it. And now this . . .

No telling what lay in wait for him, Harry got dressed and went outside after seeing that the clock said it was barely seven. It had taken forever for him to fall asleep, but when he had, he'd evidently been dead to the world. The booze had really put him out. He hadn't even awakened when the other hands had come home. He blushed at the thought of the fantasies that had taken place in his mind before he'd finally drifted off.

Thank God he hadn't gotten really drunk, because he would have had a hell of a hangover this morning.

And then if Louis had a hangover as well—everyone would wonder why. They hadn't done anything, but it was still bad enough. The others would wonder why they had refused to go to town to drink, choosing instead to drink whiskey at home. _Together._

Enough! He grabbed a couple of aspirin from the bunkhouse cabinet and washed it down with a glass of juice. The mostly empty bottle of whiskey remained on the table mocking him and giving him a grim reminder of last night and the kiss that had _almost_ happened.

How was he going to face Louis this morning? The embarrassment was surely going to do him in.

Luckily, Louis was up with the others. Harry had been afraid the boss would still be in bed, nursing a giant hangover, and Harry had been afraid the others might ask questions.

 _Damn! But if Harry wasn't drop dead gorgeous even the morning after drinking!_

Louis muttered irritably to himself upon seeing the Cheshire lad. How did he do it? Look so perfect all the fuckin' time? Because he was a natural beauty, that's why.

"How'd you sleep last night, Lou?" asked Johnny as he almost always did every morning.

"Like shit," Louis snipped in a snarky tone as he walked on past Johnny and toward the corral. Okay, well, Johnny and the rest of them had seen the almost empty whiskey bottle on the table this morning. If Louis had drank that much by himself, it was no wonder he was snippy and looked like the walking dead.

Harry started toward the large stock trailer parked near a corral. There were about ten horses milling around in the corral, and Louis was already over there, looking them over. Harry should have known that rain or shine, he never missed anything that happened on his ranch.

"Why are you guys up so early?" asked Harry of Niall.

"This is one of the high points in our lives!" Niall said happily, then rubbed his temples gingerly.

"Hangover?" asked Harry.

Niall nodded. "I'm still hungry for breakfast though." No one had had time for breakfast, and Niall was starving. But that was more or less a given. Niall could be deathly ill and still be hungry.

Harry approached the fence, trying not to appear too eager, and silently watched the horses. There was an attractive Pinto, a couple of sorrels, a grey, three or four bays and a buckskin. The pinto was a giant of a horse, and he laid his ears back at Harry when Harry attempted to reach through the fence to pet him. The gray was intensely nervous as if he hadn't been exposed to much. His eyes darted here and there, and he spooked a few times. That could only mean trouble. Harry had enough problems learning about his job without a ballistic mount to contend with. A solidly built sorrel mare with a wide blaze and four white socks caught Harry's eye. She looked just the right size for him too. Harry watched her with interest.

Louis appeared at Harry's side soundlessly. That man was like an Indian, thought Harry. Sneaking around quiet as a feline, and startling Harry on a fairly regular basis.

Louis figured he'd better talk to Harry now, or make their awkward situation even worse, not to mention drawing the attention of the others with their silence. Guilt would undoubtedly prevail, and suspicions might arise. It was massively difficult, but he forced himself.

 _Act normal,_ he told himself.

"That mare is nice," he said, noting how Harry was studying her. "But she's real horsey."

"Horsey?"

"Yeah, she's in season, and she's flirtin' with all the guys, even though they're geldings. She would do that every time she goes into heat. It's a pain in the arse to ride a mare like that."

Well, did Louis think he was going to choose Harry's horse for him? Not gonna happen. This was to be Harry's very own horse. And while Harry never questioned orders from Louis, this was a different situation. His personal mount should be his own decision.

"The Pinto is insolent," remarked Louis, interrupting Harry's thoughts.

"I already found that out. Pinned his ears at me," said Harry.

Harry knew Louis was the best one to consult, but he really did want to select his own horse. He'd waited a lifetime for this. But Louis was right. The mare would, no doubt, be more interested in male horses than listening to Harry and getting her job done. Just for that reason, Harry preferred a gelding. Geldings tended to be more steady and reliable. But he didn't want Louis to think he'd let him push him around.

It wasn't as difficult to face Louis as he'd feared. Louis was quiet this morning, but it didn't dawn on Harry _why_ he was so quiet, at first. He noticed Louis squinted more than usual in the bright sun, and moved a touch more slowly. The boss took some sunglasses out of his pocket and slipped them on. Then Harry recalled how Louis had finished most of the bottle of whiskey last night. He must feel horrid.

The sunglasses came in handy too, and not just because of the bright sun, but to shield Louis' eyes from Harry's. He didn't want Harry to see the mortification there. Louis would rather just pretend last night had never happened.

The horse trader was wrapped up in a conversation with Nick and Johnny so Harry didn't feel much pressure to decide on a horse right away. He observed them as they peered around at the unfamiliar surroundings. A blood red bay gelding with no white at all walked up to the fence railing where Harry was leaning and reached out to him with an inquisitive nose as if to ask if Harry might like to pet him. Harry smiled and rubbed his nose and his forehead between his eyes. The gelding let out a long, relaxed roller snort as if he was content to find an understanding soul.

"How about that buckskin? He's a gelding," said Louis as he walked toward Harry from the horse trader's direction. "The guy says he's eight years old and ranch broke. Says he's sure-footed and has a lot of stamina." Louis' horseman's eyes took in the rawboned buckskin with approval. "Nice conformation, and he's about the right size for you too."

Harry glanced at the buckskin, but he had already decided against him several minutes earlier. He just couldn't see himself owning the horse. He couldn't put his finger on it, but he didn't feel that special excitement when he imagined the animal belonging to him. It was ridiculously romantic, but Harry felt that it was important to have a chemistry with a horse he would be depending on and spending more time with than even any human. His reasoning was that the horse would have to be a friend as well as a work partner.

"I don't know, Louis. He doesn't really appeal to me," he said dubiously. He certainly didn't want to question Louis' wisdom or disregard his opinion, especially knowing he had a hangover. Louis had a lot of experience with horses. Harry's experience was not nearly as extensive. Harry mulled this over. What to do?

Harry had turned his back on the corral to speak with Louis, and he noticed his boss briefly massaging his temples the same way Niall had done. He also looked unnaturally pale.

"I've got a couple aspirin in me pocket," He handed them to Louis, who crammed them straight into his mouth, swallowing them dry, with no liquid. Harry actually felt a bit sorry for him.

"You okay this morning?" Louis asked Harry, throwing the young man off balance. Harry hadn't expected Louis to be overly concerned, since Harry hadn't had that much to drink.

"Uh, yeah, like, I guess, yeah? A little headachy too, though. But nothing like you must be. I only had a few swallows, and I won't even venture to guess how I'd feel if I had more," Harry said honestly.

Suddenly, Harry felt something warm and breathy on the back of his neck. Couldn't be Louis (damn it) since the man was standing in front of him. He turned around to the same blood bay horse's whiskered nose rooting at him. He chuckled and ruffled the gelding's forelock.

"You're a sweet guy, you know that?" He automatically bent forward and looked between the bars of the fence to confirm he was indeed a boy.

"Look Louis. He's a gelding. He's really friendly. A people's horse. I like his attitude. What do you think?"

Louis grunted noncommittally and evaluated the gelding without comment. Harry nearly held his breath when Louis ducked between the bars and went over the animal with a fine toothed comb. First he stood back and took in the horse's general conformation. Then he ran his hands down each of his legs. After that he picked up each of the horse's hooves and made small noises to himself that Harry couldn't decode. Finally, Louis looked into the horse's mouth and at his teeth.

Then he came back through the fence to stand beside Harry while stroking his bristly cheeks, something all Texans seemed to do when contemplating something carefully.

"Well?" Harry could no longer stand waiting for his assessment, and Louis' slightly doubtful expression worried him. "What do you think?" Harry repeated.

Louis shifted his weight to one leg and leaned against the fence, pulling out a cigarette and leisurely lighting it after striking a match against his jeans. It was times like this that Harry wanted to wring his neck. Did he do it on purpose to keep him in suspense, or was he really thinking over exactly what he wanted to articulate? Weighing the horse's attributes, maybe? He was just being a Texan, Harry reminded himself again. Deliberate, slow and studied.

The smell of the freshly lit cigarette cut through the air and accosted Harry's nostrils. Somehow the earthy aroma of the tobacco fit the rancher.

"Want the good points first, or the bad?" Louis shuffled his boots impatiently, waiting on Harry's answer. So he was wanting an answer from Harry instantly, yet he'd taken his time answering Harry.

Was he remembering last night at the same time he was estimating the quality of a horse? Harry wanted the answer to that one really badly. No, it was impossible. Harry understood that most men couldn't concentrate on two things at once. Harry, himself, must be different than the average man, as he worried about the viability of his choice in a horse, and pondered Louis' potency simultaneously. It was his feminine side, he reasoned.

 _He can't help it if he's driving me to distraction with his allure._

"Um, might as well start with the bad and get it over with." Harry commended himself for keeping his concentration somewhat on track while this gorgeous hunk of man demanded his attention through no effort of his own. Louis was also growing more antsy by the moment. Something seemed to be eating at him.

Another interval of silence ensued as Louis took a long drag of his cigarette and contemplated just how he should go about explaining the horse's shortcomings without deflating Harry completely.

"Well, number one . . . he's green. I already know that because I talked to Mr. Hewitt about each of the horses before you came out here. The gelding hasn't been used for ranch work, which is a massive minus. Then . . . on top of that, he's spooky and jittery. Those are a big deal when you need a quiet hardworking horse under you. And lastly, he's young—only four."

"But couldn't he learn the ranch work in time?" Harry grasped at straws, now driven to change his boss' mind. "And as long as he doesn't throw me when he spooks, is that so bad? Can't he learn to overcome it if I expose him to things?"

Harry was getting agitated. He'd ridden dressage horses, and had even done some jumping. He wasn't as green as Louis seemed to think he was.

"Some horses stay spooky their whole lives. Damn useless, if you want me opinion. I can't say if he's that kind, though, unless I ride him. Could just be his young age, and he'll outgrow it. But not bein' well broke, or even used on a ranch . . . Harry, you don't need a green horse. The work is hard enough without having to wrestle with an untrained animal. It takes close to a year of trainin' before most horses are halfway decent for ranch work." Louis shook his head doubtfully. "If you don't like any of the others in this corral, there are plenty of horses already on the ranch that know their stuff. You might reconsider that route. How about Tumbleweed or Applesauce? Then there's Hershey. You do a good job with Latigo and Milady. Any one of them would do you well. You'll be sorry if you end up with one that lets you down when you really need him."

Harry knew he was being stubborn, but it was as if this horse had picked him out, begged him for a chance. You should always use your head in these situations, never your heart. Harry knew that. It was foolhardy to be sentimental about something so important, and could possibly profoundly affect his job effectiveness, but the gelding's large brown, kind eyes had really gotten to him. What would happen to him if Harry didn't take him? Where would he end up? The possibilities were many, he suspected. Maybe with a less than kind owner, or maybe he'd have to travel in that trailer to another state and still not find a home, only to end up in a slaughterhouse.

"What are his good points?" Harry asked in desperation.

Louis shifted his weight again, still very uncomfortable with bursting Harry's bubble.

"He's only got two. And they don't carry as much weight as his bad points."

"Well, at least tell me what they are."

"Don't wanna encourage you." Louis was being obstinate, and Harry wanted to smack him, but he was, after all, his boss, and Harry wasn't a violent person anyway.

"If you had any common sense at all, you'd steer clear of this horse. He's got potential, but not for a greenhorn."

Harry looked so forlorn that Louis searched his mind for a way to soften the blow.

"Isn't there even one other horse that might do? I'll tack up any you might be interested in and we can try them out."

"I just want to know his good points." Harry now knew Louis was trying to appease him in any way he could instead of being his usual, gruff self. But his negativity had fueled Harry's fire to protect the horse he practically now thought of as his own.

"Okay, okay. He appears to be the right size for you, or close to it, and his disposition appears to be excellent."

"Isn't disposition very important?" Harry felt hope swell from within.

Reluctantly, Louis nodded. "It's very important. But a well- trained horse with a borderline disposition can still be a superior worker if he is taught to respect humans. Look at Johnny's horse, Cactus."

He had a point there that Harry could not deny. Cactus was definitely not a puppy dog, but he would never think of turning on Johnny. A mere disapproving glance from Johnny kept him in line.

"Now, if you're talkin' about an outlaw, that's a different story. If you can't trust a horse not to stomp you to death or bite your ear off, it doesn't matter how well trained he is. But on the other hand you don't want a horse that's too much of a pet. Sometimes they don't want to work when they're coddled too much. And this horse would be easy to spoil that way."

Louis was thinking of every argument he could to talk Harry out of it.

"Let's go talk to Mr. Hewitt. Find out more about the horse." Louis was hoping Mr. Hewitt would help to discourage Harry so he wouldn't be viewed as the bad guy.

Mr. Hewitt was even rougher around the edges than some of the other cowboys Harry had met since he'd been here. He told it like it was—no hemming and hawing. He was brutally honest. After hearing what he had to say, Harry was even more baffled.

"He's an Arabian and I got his papers," he drawled. That was a new one on Harry. He had thought the horse was part Arabian, but he did not look like the typical purebred. He must be a representative of the stockier type he'd read about. While not a large horse, he was taller than most Arabs, standing at about fifteen hands plus an inch or two.

"He's green—not been ridden a whole lot. Don't know if he's ever seen a cow. He does tend to shy. But he's got a rock solid temperament and excellent ground manners. Seems sound as far as I can see. But some of the others would be better for a beginner."

Harry wanted to spout that he wasn't a beginner rider, just a beginner ranch hand. But he kept silent.

Louis took off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. "About the worst candidate for a working ranch horse."

 _There. He'd made his case._ If Harry was still determined after all that, well, there was nothing more he could do.

"Can I use one of the other horses until he's trained?" Harry asked.

"When are you gonna train him?" Louis sighed, and Harry had a feeling he was becoming resigned. "Do you know _how_ to train him for ranch work?"

Harry looked at the ground, avoiding Louis' eyes. Louis had him there. But he still wasn't going to give up.

"I could work with him on weekends. If you could just give me some quick pointers . . . "

Honest to God, but this lad was tenacious!

"There's a million little things you need to teach him to get him to the point to where he can start learnin' the bigger things. I guess I can help you on our days off," Louis sighed again. And yes, Harry knew it was a sacrifice.

" _Maybe_ by this time next year, he'll be ready for the roundup. If not, you can use another horse. Okay, Harry, if you're dead set on havin' him, we'll get him in shape somehow."

Harry was taken aback by Louis' willingness to help him, even though he was aware Louis thought he must be mad to take on a horse that was even greener than he was. But why couldn't the horse learn if he worked hard at it?

Louis was becoming more and more restless, and Harry noticed he was actually turning a little green. Harry remembered his hangover again and felt compassion for his boss.

Louis suddenly exclaimed, quietly, so that only Harry could hear, "I think I'm gonna puke," and quickly walked off in the direction of the main house.


	20. Chapter 20

With Louis gone, Harry was left alone with his dilemma. Should he get the horse he wanted, but Louis had advised against, or go for the buckskin Louis had so strongly suggested? Or just pass on this bunch altogether?

He asked Niall and Nick why they didn't have their own horses, hoping to get some feedback. Both shrugged as if it didn't matter that much. They just rode whatever horse in the remuda that happened to be the closest to their rope on any given day. A lot of help _they_ were.

Well, Harry knew he would be setting himself up for lots of inconvenience, and perhaps worse, but in the end he went with his heart and told Mr. Hewitt he wanted the bay Arab gelding. Mr. Hewitt threw the halter and lead rope Harry offered on the horse and handed the gelding over. And that was that. It was that quick, and it left Harry with reservations and then grave misgivings that settled in the bottom of his stomach like a rock.

"No cash needed. Louis' good fer it," Mr. Hewitt said when Harry asked about payment. "I'll jus' send him a bill like I always do." The other ranch hands then helped Mr. Hewitt load the remaining horses up, and he left.

Oh God, what had he done? Harry sure hoped Louis wasn't going to be massively disappointed in him for disregarding his advice.

Harry spent a lot of time that day with his new horse, giving him carrots, grooming him, and just working to earn the animal's trust. He only saw Louis briefly the rest of the day, and when he did, he could tell the hangover had done a number on his boss. Louis had waved weakly to him, and disappeared back into the house, evidently not terribly disturbed that Harry had ended up with the bay Arabian. Either that, or he was feeling too poorly to really give a shit.

Sunday, Harry and Louis saddled up Harry's new mount and Louis took a deep breath and mounted up, prepared for the worst.

"Let's see what he knows," Louis' face was not readable, but Harry could sense his vague and barely concealed disapproval.

Harry sat on the fence where Louis worked with the horse in an arena sized corral, and Louis attempted to coax the horse to respond to various cues. It was clear even to Harry's fairly untutored eye that the horse hadn't a clue of most of the things that were asked of him. Louis was patient and gentle with him, knowing he wasn't being stubborn, but simply had had very little schooling.

After about fifteen minutes, Louis reined in next to where Harry sat and stepped out of the saddle. His face told Harry most of the story before he even opened his mouth. It wasn't good. Louis stretched and looked up at the sky as if searching the heavens for words. Finally, with a resigned, weary sigh, he turned to Harry.

"We've got our work cut out for us. He's green alright. So green he doesn't even know that leg pressure means to go faster. Luckily though, that's not a major problem with this particular horse, as he's more than willin' to move out. The real problem is gettin' him to stop."

"Oh dear. That's bad," Harry moaned.

"That's not the half of it either. He doesn't have the slightest idea what I want when I ask him to move sideways, he doesn't neck rein, and he hasn't even been taught to back up." This was turning out to be even worse than Harry's worst fears had been. The horse didn't sound much better than one that had never been ridden. Good God, his horse didn't even know the bare basics!

"I'm sorry, Louis. I'll do all the trainin.' You have too much responsibility as it is." Harry felt guilt gnawing away at him. This was not part of Louis' job. He shouldn't have to deal with this. And it was Harry's fault for insisting on a horse he'd taken a fancy to, without considering the consequences, or even riding him prior. He felt like a spoiled brat right about now.

"No, I said I'd help you, and I'm a man of me word. I could've told you you had to pick another horse. But I didn't. So it's me responsibility too. All we can do is have a bit of a laugh over it. A couple hours on our days off and he'll be comin' along nicely in a few months. He does have good things going for him. He has exceptional ground manners and respect, but . . . another thing to keep in mind is that he's an Arabian, and might not have any cow sense. Some Arabs do, but I have a feelin' . . ." Louis shook his head slowly.

Unfortunately, Louis' gut feeling was right on the mark. More unpleasant surprises awaited. When Louis rode Harry's new horse into a pasture where cows resided, it was discovered that the horse indeed had never seen a cow before, as Mr. Hewitt had suspected. Worse, he was deathly afraid of them. He downright refused to get within fifty feet of them, and if it were up to him, he'd stay at least fifty yards away.

When Louis gently insisted he go toward the cattle, the horse spooked badly, turned and bolted. After finally (and with difficulty) reining him to a stop, Louis merely looked dismayed.

Once safely out of the cow pasture, Louis had Harry try the horse out so Harry could see exactly what he was getting into. For at least the third or fourth time Harry seriously questioned his hasty decision. He had only ridden well trained horses, for the most part. And even though some of the ranch horses were very spirited, they didn't lack knowledge.

This horse spooked often and sometimes violently, lurching one way and then the other, or imagining there was a boogey behind every tree, even though there was nothing to be seen. Trying to steer him was a nightmare. Compared to him, the ranch horses had power steering. Stopping was worse yet. Harry got him to move out when he leaned forward slightly and closed his legs, per Louis' instructions, but then the horse bored into the bit when Harry wanted to slow down. Following Louis' advice, Harry pulled him into a circle until his speed was reduced. But the feeling of such lack of control was very disconcerting.

That evening on the porch, Johnny asked Harry what he was going to name his new horse. Harry gazed at the gelding in a nearby corral as he munched hay, his bright blood red coat shining in the afternoon sun, his black mane and tail glossy and looking like silken threads. He was a pretty little horse, but as to his usefulness, well, none of the guys had been brave enough to ask why Harry wanted a horse that was as green as grass. Harry still found it hard to believe Louis was grudgingly willing to help him train his new mount.

"I've been so busy workin' with him that I haven't even thought about it," Harry admitted to Johnny. Johnny smoked lazily and gazed at Harry's horse as if he were sizing him up.

"Look at his registration papers and see what his registered name is. Maybe that'll give you an idea."

Harry had forgotten all about the papers. He went into the bunkhouse and retrieved them, then he sat back down between Johnny and Leo on the bench. Leo was nearly as excited about this whole thing as Harry. He had also chosen a horse for himself today, but his had come from the remuda. Of course, he had ultimately chosen Jackson, the fractious demon of a horse that only he was able to control with much success.

"Let's see . . . his registered name is Kabira Saber." Harry thought about calling him Kabira, but somehow he felt it would be too hard to remember. Besides that, it didn't seem to fit him.

"The horse trader called him Shorty," Leo reminded him.

"I know, but I don't like that name. It doesn't do him justice. I want him to have a nice name."

Harry looked up briefly as Louis passed them on his way to the mare barn. A beautiful palomino was due to foal any time, and the rancher was antsy about it. He had checked on her several times since lunch. He had even excused himself to check on her once during dinner.

"Need help, Lou?" Nick asked.

"No, she's not in labor yet, but I have a hunch it'll be tonight," Louis threw over his shoulder as he made his way past two corrals to the mare barn.

"How about Saber? It's different, and it's a right nice name," suggested Leo.

"I was thinkin' the same thing," smiled Harry. "I like it—you're right. It's unique. And I think it fits him."

"Good choice," Johnny nodded his approval. "Hey, wasn't Louis gonna teach you two to shoot this weekend?"

Harry and Leo both jerked their heads up at once.

"That's right. With the excitement of getting me own horse, I forgot all about it," said Harry.

"Me too, We'll have to remind him for next weekend; after your horse's lesson, that is. Saber's lesson." Leo smiled, proud to be the first to use Harry's new horse's name.

Harry was restless that night. Some sort of energy was crackling in the air around him. But the skies were clear; no sign of coming summer storms was in evidence. Louis had made a final check on Crème Soda, the palomino mare that was due to foal before he had finally retired shortly before eleven. Harry had seen him coming back from the barn, and judging from his uncertain gait and glances over his shoulder, he knew Louis was reluctant to go to bed for fear the mare might need assistance. This was her first foal, and no one knew how she would fare.

Harry rolled over in bed for about the fortieth time and glanced at the clock. It was nearly midnight and he hadn't even gotten close to sleep. Perhaps it was the excitement of getting his own horse today that was keeping him from relaxing enough to sleep. But it felt like something more . . .

On an impulse, he leaned over the side of his bunk and peered out the window that faced the mare barn. Just as he did so, a light was turned on in the barn. That's what it was. Either Louis couldn't sleep either, and was checking on the mare again, or she was foaling. Louis had a "mare watch" device that was similar to a baby monitor in the main house, so it was pretty certain something was going down.

Not being sleepy anyway, Harry wondered if Louis might need help, so he got up and dressed as quietly as he could, although the other ranch hands all appeared to be in dream land. Shadow Bear groaned as she got up from her place on a rug under Harry's bunk.

He tried to silently discourage her, but she refused to be left behind. She followed him, occasionally criss-crossing Harry's path on his way to the mare barn, alert for any lurking danger to her beloved companion.

Harry entered the mare barn quietly in case Louis had bedded down in the hay and was asleep, not an uncommon thing for him to do when he was concerned for a horse. But Louis was anything but asleep. He was kneeling beside the palomino's dark golden coat which was glistening with sweat. The mare was stretched out on her side.

Harry had never seen a mare in labor, but there was no doubt in his mind that that was what was occurring now. The mare was heaving and straining, her eyes wide with fright.

The scene was touching, and Harry was tempted not to let his presence be known just yet. Louis was displaying his softer side which seemed to be reserved for animals. He kept up a steady, comforting murmur as he stroked the mare's neck. He stayed behind her back to avoid her hooves should she kick out in her pain.

"I know it's all new and scary," Harry heard him say. "But it'll be over soon if you concentrate. It's gonna hurt, but you'll get your reward in the end. You'll have a little baby to love, and I'll get you some warm bran mash."

He went on talking to the mare as if she understood every word. And Harry wondered just how much she did understand when the gorgeous equine looked up into Louis' eyes as if she were reassured by his monologue.

"Louis," Harry laid his hand gently on Louis' back so as not to startle him. The rancher still jerked though, until he saw who it was. It was as if he'd been in a trance, his eyes a little glazed.

"Harry. You should be in bed."

"Couldn't sleep. Then I saw the light out here. It came on just as I looked out the window."

"Yeah, I just got here. I couldn't sleep either because I was pretty sure it would be tonight. There were funny sounds on the monitor too."

The clear blue of Louis' eyes had turned dark, and Harry instinctively knew why. He was fretful about the mare.

"She's a maiden. Sometimes they can be tricky. She's only three. I don't think she's been strainin' long, but look how sweated up she is." His voice was low so he wouldn't alarm his charge.

"Yeah, she looks almost frantic. What can I do to help?"

"Nothin,' really. I'll examine her if you stay at her head and talk to her. I need to get a glove."

Louis shifted to a corner of the stall while still squatting and grabbed a latex glove, pulling it up to above his elbow. Harry was a little surprised that he was not the slightest bit embarrassed as he would have been had it been anyone other than Louis.

Harry stayed behind the mare's head and crooned softly to her as Louis had done. Louis moved to the mare's tail, which had been braided so it would be out of the way. He handed the thick braid to Harry.

"Don't pull, just hold it gently but firmly." Louis' eyes briefly caught his and Harry's stomach jumped and fluttered. His heart seemed to cramp up. It was one of those special, intimate looks shared between people who are involved in a critical situation together. Louis' eyes were gentle, and he grinned in an effort to get Harry to relax.

"We'll get this girl through it fine." But the furrows between his brows told Harry there was much he wasn't saying. He was anxious—and Harry hadn't often seen him like this. This was something that was out of his control. There was only so much he could do—nature would have to do the rest.

As he performed the exam, the mare became even more uncomfortable. Harry ached for her. He could almost feel the awful cramping pain himself. He'd always been like that. Empathetic. And sometimes it hindered him because his compassion had a way of overwhelming him.

Louis stretched out behind the mare's hindquarters on his stomach, his arm now in to his elbow. He grunted and twisted.

"Hold on girl. Just a minute more." His voice was strained with the effort he exerted. His quiet confidence wrapped Harry in warm reassurance. He could see the concentration etched on the man's features, and then the mare began to tighten in the midst of another contraction.

Louis gritted his teeth and pulled his hand out quickly. The fierce contraction would have nearly crushed his arm.

As he removed the glove, he walked over to the sink in the barn and washed both hands and arms.

"I felt somethin' way up there. I think it won't be long now. If the foal is in the right position, and I think it is, she'll deliver alright. The front hooves are supposed to come first, and I think I felt them both. That's good news."

Obviously, he knew a lot about this kind of thing.

"We don't usually have to call the vet unless there's a complication. I learned a lot by watchin' the vets during births. Hopefully, the foal is small enough to make it through. We bred her to a large stallion."

"How will you know if she's havin' trouble?"

"She'll keep strainin' and nothin' will happen. Or the labor could even stop altogether. That's when I'll know to call the vet. But one thing that worries me—I don't know how long she's been strainin' like this. Couldn't be too long, but usually it takes only an hour at most to deliver. She was already drippin' wet when I got here, and it's been almost half an hour since then. I have an injection to give her to speed up the labor, but we have to be positive the foal is in a good position before I give that; otherwise, if the foal is caught up somehow, the drug could cause her uterus to rupture."

Harry was feeling clammy himself now, nausea washing over him in waves. Not from queasiness, but born out of fear for the mare. Harry's hands trembled as he smoothed the creamy white mane.

Suddenly, he felt Louis' hand on the back of his hair, massaging down through it to the back of his neck. That strong, comforting, steadying hand of his.

"You're doin' a great job, Harry. She's respondin.' Look at her eyes. She's not as afraid anymore. Maybe she'll get down to business now."

Harry tried not to think about how wonderful Louis' nearness felt. The mare needed help, even if it was only emotional support. Perhaps he couldn't do anything for her like Louis could, but he could give her comfort with his quiet words. That was something. It was true though, that Crème Soda's eyes were not showing as much white as they were a few minutes ago.

Their gazes connected with no effort from either one of them, and once again Harry felt that throbbing, aching need warming up insidiously within him. It was a slow burn that practically had him in a straight jacket. He doubted he could move even if he had wanted to.

Suddenly, Crème Soda began to strain again. Both men jerked back to reality.

"The contractions are comin' closer. That's a good sign. Maybe we'll have a fuzzy colt or filly before long."

It was a long, drawn out, exhausting labor for the golden palomino, and Louis solemnly vowed to breed her to a smaller stallion next time. She progressed steadily, although very slowly. Louis had to help her with the final necessary pushes, easing the foal out in time with the mare's contractions while Harry stayed at her head, murmuring encouragement.

Louis' face was shiny with sweat, but he wore an almost carefree, relieved smile when their efforts were finally rewarded.

As soon as the filly emerged into the world, it was clear to Louis why things had taken so long. The baby looked tiny to Harry, who had never seen a newborn foal, but Louis assured him it was definitely on the large side.

The two men high-fived, feeling giddy with relief. Harry fought back tears of pure adulation.

Harry gasped in astonishment as, less than an hour after its birth, the filly struggled to her feet, falling several times and flailing about, then at last found her mother's udder and sucked noisily. Harry had thought Louis would step in to help the baby, but Louis had told him that nature would give the baby the strength to stand in a short time. Now, as they watched the filly nurse, Louis quite naturally put his arm around Harry's shoulders, giving him a squeeze.

"Thanks for your help, Harry."

"But I didn't do anythin."

"Your support helped more than you know. This one had me sweatin.'"

"Isn't it amazin,' the instant bond they have?" Harry said aloud as he watched the mare nuzzle the baby's tail. He marveled at the way animal instinct worked.

"Yeah, it always gets to me, no matter how many times I see it," admitted Louis. "Well, Soda, I guess it's time for that mash I promised you."

Louis went to the sink and lifted a bucket, adding warm water to the bran and chopped carrots and stirring until it was the consistency of pudding.

"Boy, you sure were prepared," Harry said.

"I always do everythin' ahead of time. Makes me feel more in control."

His candor was so refreshing. Harry had never, during the entire labor, doubted that Louis was in control.

"She's all legs!" Harry cried, referring to the filly.

"I know. They always look like they're on stilts for the first few weeks or months."

"What color do you think she is?" Harry asked as he and Louis toweled the foal briefly, then stepped aside so the mare could finish the job with her tongue. The filly was still damp and looked dark in color, and that was all Harry could tell at this point.

"I bred her to a seal brown stud. Chances are that's what the foal's color will be. Hard to tell right away though, as sometimes the color changes. But you don't often get a palomino foal, even if you breed for palomino. Color genetics are tricky." Louis stirred the bran a little more and offered the appealing gruel to the mare. She eagerly buried her nose into it. For some reason, Louis' knowledge was a turn-on for Harry.

"That's why you don't see that many palominos," Louis continued. "They go for a lot of money if they have good bloodlines."

Almost casually, Louis reached over and removed the afterbirth from the straw as it slipped out of the mare. He examined it, then threw it into a bucket to be disposed of, washed his hands, then, noting how pale Harry was, sauntered back over to him and threw his arm around him again.

"Everythin' will be alright," he said in a low voice as he squeezed gently.

"You're quite the mid-wife," Harry said with a smile.

"Ah shit. Stop with the compliments, lad," Louis realized his mistake. "Sorry," he muttered, remembering that Harry didn't like to be called "lad." Funny, Niall didn't seem to mind it a bit. But come to think of it, there wasn't much Niall _did_ mind.

"What have we got here?" Harry jumped and turned his head to see Johnny and Leo peering into the stall. He hadn't even heard them come into the barn. Likely because his focus had been on Louis. And even more surprising, Louis hadn't heard them either. They'd been so caught up in each other that they hadn't even heard two pairs of boot heels on the wooden floor.

Louis, still having his arm around Harry, did not yank it away as Harry would have expected. Harry didn't recoil either, willing himself to appear relaxed, as if he didn't have all kinds of sinful thoughts whirling around in his head.

 _Louis hadn't wanted to appear guilty_ , Harry realized. The rancher was a pretty decent actor.

Louis finally took his arm away casually and approached Johnny.

"Wasn't real easy—filly's big, as you can see. But Harry helped to calm Soda and luckily we didn't have to call the vet." Louis made it sound as if he had helped, but Harry wasn't dumb enough not to know Louis had done all the work, had all the experience, and would have done just fine without him.

Johnny had averted his eyes, and Harry had a feeling it was because he'd seen Louis' arm around Harry. Leo hadn't missed it either, and Harry suddenly felt exposed.

Only a couple of minutes went by before Nick and Niall also showed up.

Harry reminded himself that Louis would have thrown his arm around any of the other hands for helping out with the foaling. But at the same time, there had been something tender about the way he'd touched Harry. Harry was pretty sure it wasn't his imagination. This was a side of his enigmatic boss that made the man so interesting.

"What time is it anyway?" Louis cocked an eyebrow at his employees.

"Pert near three," answered Nick.

"What are you guys doin' up?" asked Louis.

"Well, I got up first. Kept wonderin' about that mare. When I left the bunkhouse, I reckon the others heard me and followed," Johnny said with a sleepy smile.

"All I dreamed about was mares foalin,'" admitted Leo.

"I reckon that goes for all of us," Niall piped up.

Now that the anticipation of the foaling had culminated in a healthy filly and all danger was past, thoughts intruded and insidiously pounced on Louis.

 _He'd come perilously close to kissing Harry._ He had to admit it. He hadn't been able to stop thinking about it since the night in question. The old fears came back in a rush. The apprehension, the anxiety, the denials. He'd been trying to run from it, pretend it hadn't happened, that he hadn't felt the way he had. Now he knew for certain-the young man he'd hired was clear-cut gay. Louis had kept the suspicion of that unsettling notion tucked away, in the back of his mind, not wanting to even ponder it. But now he could no longer deny it. Harry might as well be a stick of dynamite as far as Louis was concerned.

And concerning himself . . . his reaction to the man, and then his approach—his intention- that was the most unnerving part of this whole thing. It left him flustered and seriously shaken.

 _He'd wanted him._ In fact, he'd wanted Harry since day one. His attraction was incontestable. There was no getting away from it. The facts were there. But he was single-minded, bound and determined that he would not give in to this.

He might have had a moment of weakness, but he would not succumb again. He would be the man his father had wanted him to be. An upstanding, proud, successful ranch owner. He would be an honor to his father, even though the man was dead. He wasn't fucking gay!


	21. Chapter 21

"What happened to the mustang you broke?" Harry stood in front of the empty corral that had held the pretty little horse only days ago.

"I sold him to the horse trader. I guess you were so excited about Saber you didn't even notice him being loaded up with the others onto Mr. Hewitt's trailer." Louis studied Harry's slight frown of concentration.

Harry felt a little sad, but then realized he was being overly sentimental. _Again._ Ranches bought and sold stock all the time There had been no reason to get attached to the mustang. There would be many more, he was sure.

That day, Harry rode Saber in order to give him the experience he needed so much. He tried to ride him a minimum of two days a week. The only way Saber was going to lose his fear of cattle was by being exposed to them as much as Harry could manage.

Sometimes he rode him for the day's work, but most of the time he rode one of the remuda horses. On the days he did take Saber out, he drilled the horse on leg cues and backing up on occasions when the guys didn't need his immediate help when fixing fences. The horses had to be super responsive. Riding fences required quick and precise obedience to the rider's legs.

With Harry and Louis working with him on weekends, Louis said they could gradually accustom him to cattle without pushing his limits to the point to where he would rebel. And after his confidence was built up, Harry could begin to get closer and closer to the cattle while working with him on the various other cues he needed to know all the while.

While he'd eventually make a decent ranch horse, he probably wouldn't be as quick or naturally skilled as the other ranch horses, or have the same drive to work cattle, since he wasn't a quarter horse, but with his willing nature, Louis felt he should be able to get most jobs done.

The cowboys had ventured to a far pasture to remove a bull from the cows he had serviced. Breeding season was more or less all year long, but this bull was causing pandemonium amongst the cows, and Louis had decided he needed to be separated from them before he caused major injuries. So he'd be going back to his pen. It was the same Angus Johnny had shown Harry when Harry had been a brand new employee. Louis hadn't yet decided what he would do with the intractable bull. The bovine's attitude was even meaner toward people than to other cattle. Even though he had no horns, the bull was still very capable of doing considerable damage because of his sheer size, huge unyielding hooves, and the force of his body weight to go with his rage.

The plan was for Louis and Leo, the most skilled ropers, to each land a loop over the bull's head from opposite sides. Then they would lead or drag him if necessary, to the open gate of his own pen, and a cowboy would prod him from behind if needed. They had tried everything else they could think of, but the bull refused to leave his harem, charging the cowboys and their horses whenever they entered the pasture. So they needed to take more drastic measures, which meant taking more risks.

Louis had instructed Harry to stay on the outside of the pen fence and watch. That way, Harry would have an opportunity to learn how to handle a fractious bull without putting himself in danger. Harry chuckled to himself. He couldn't have entered the pen if he'd wanted to. Saber was not about to get anywhere near the scent of those strange looking animals that made the oddest sounds.

So he tied Saber farther down the pasture fence, and walked to the bull pen so he could get a good view of the proceedings while perched atop the tall fence to be out of the bull's reach.

Louis and Leo, mounted on good, steady horses, slowly approached the bull, who was more than ready to put those persistent cowboys in their place. He was determined not to leave the cows, and would do whatever it took to convince the humans of that fact. He was not in the mood for games, and even Harry could see the grim warning in the animal's eyes before the one ton bull even moved a muscle. He was enormous, weighing twice as much as the average horse.

Harry feared for Leo mainly because of his young age, but reminded himself that the young man was nearly as accomplished with a rope as Louis, and had a massive amount of natural and learned skill around livestock. Harry was less concerned about Louis not only because the ranch owner had more experience, but also because he had a quick, calculating mind even when under pressure, and also had an astonishing talent for finessing animals around to his way of thinking.

Louis was pumped up. He liked this. It gave him a chance to stir up some adrenaline instead of thinking of Harry, which he did a shit-ton of every single day. It was time he get his mind off those plump, inviting lips and bright green eyes. This bull was a whack job, and Louis needed all his faculties in order to try to outsmart him. It was a welcome change to have to really use his mind and apply himself instead of feeling like a strung-out addict over Harry.

Things went wrong from the start. Johnny was riding Cactus up and down at the far end of the small pasture, opposite of where Saber was tied, holding the cows well out of the cowboys' path. Having them underfoot would only cause mayhem and increase the chances of complications. The other hands stayed out of the pasture and watched for trouble, prepared to pitch in and help if they could, but there was actually little they could do if something went awry. This challenging undertaking was for the most part up to Louis and Leo.

The ominous rumble of the bull's snorting sent a chill through Harry in spite of the increasingly hot weather. Leo, with his deceptively steady hand and presence of mind for such a slight, wiry, coltish-looking guy, tossed a loop when he got within ten feet of the bull, who was preparing for a charge. It landed snugly around the animal's neck. On the other side of the bull sat Louis on Joaquin.

Now was a gravely precarious moment, and all eyes were on Louis. He needed to rope the bull from his side, making it impossible for the angry bovine to charge either man. The best trained, sturdiest horses were being used today because they played a critical part in keeping their riders safe. Leo was riding a big, strapping animal that would be able to brace his weight against the powerful tug of the bull nearly as well as Joaquin.

Louis made a bone chilling mistake when he missed his throw. The timing was so important because at that moment, the bull, knowing there was a rope attached to him that would surely impede him, was preparing to charge Leo's horse.

Harry had seen Louis' eyes on him just before he had tossed his rope. The rope flew through the air, and then slid innocuously off the bull's shoulder and to the ground. Did his glance at Harry have anything to do with why he'd missed? Harry sure hoped not, as he didn't want to be the cause of a tragic disaster.

Louis reacted with lightning speed, cursing violently and reeling his rope back in for another throw. But he'd only had a couple of precious seconds' window of time, and now it was too late to attempt another throw. The bull would reach Leo first. The animal had already begun to plunge wildly, his hooves spraying up huge amounts of dust, snorting snot as he hurled his bulk at the young man on the horse.

Leo, thinking quickly, spurred his mount forward to avoid the bull's broadside charge. The bull had so much momentum in addition to bulk that he was unable to veer toward Leo in pursuit. He kept running in a straight line until he was able to plunge to a stop, wheel around and pursue Leo again.

By now, Louis was racing Joaquin directly at the bull, heedless of the danger to himself. His only thought now was to thwart the bull's attempt to catch up with Leo. Louis purposely drove Joaquin right at the bull's side, and the supremely trained horse rammed into the bull, something only a rare horse would do for their owner. Harry, holding his breath, realized in that nano-second, how much heart Joaquin really had. He gasped at the awesome courage and grit horse and rider demonstrated, but he was also scared shitless for Louis.

Louis was now readying his rope again. He was trying to get into position to advance it, but the target was wise to him, and doing a good job of dodging the rope he knew would be coming by throwing his head up and down and from side to side.

"What can we do to help?" Harry's voice was distraught from his seat on the top of the fence as he turned to find no one else there. That's right-the others were outside of the pasture. He'd forgotten he was alone. Logically, Harry knew that more people in the pasture would just make the job harder for the two men trying to right this perilous situation. It would only hinder them. All possible precautions had been taken, but that was just it. Only so much preparation was possible, the rest up to skill and fate, and Harry found himself quivering from within.

Johnny had his hands full trying to keep the cows at bay all by himself. It was like a three-ring circus. The other hands, huddled outside of the pasture, watched on helplessly and did a whole lot of praying.

Harry gulped as the bull charged Leo over and over. Somehow, after Leo had avoided the bull several times, the original rope still around the bull's neck and in Leo's hand, with Louis in hot pursuit, Louis finally got into a position to throw his second loop. Not perfect, but there just wasn't time for that. All hope was cast on Louis, and Leo had to trust Louis to throw a good one this time. Leo's faith in his boss was obviously not in question. They all missed now and then, and Leo knew Louis was unlikely to make the same mistake twice. If he missed again, the bull would be even more infuriated than he already was, and since Leo was the source of the rope that had set him off to begin with, the bull would only be more anxious to take out his wrath on the younger ranch hand.

This time, Louis' aim was true, and the two cowboys quickly dallied their ropes firmly to their saddle horns, signaling their horses to keep the ropes taut by moving sideways and bracing whenever any slack appeared in the rope. It was a tall order for the horses, but they leaned against the rope, and together they subdued the bull somewhat.

Louis and Leo half dragged, half led the volatile bull to the open gate, where Johnny would smoothly move behind the bull to urge him through the gate. Only then could the men drop their ropes, and Johnny would quickly close the gate before the bull could charge back through.

The bull, however, was not intending to give up his power so easily, planting his feet and refusing to leave the pasture when they reached the gate, so Johnny allowed Cactus to move up tight behind the animal. Sometimes Cactus' irritable disposition came in handy, Harry realized as Johnny loosened his reins, giving the feisty gelding permission to do the necessary convincing.

Cactus opened his mouth wide to reveal long yellow teeth, and gave the bull a sharp nip on the rear end, doing his job with apparent relish. Cactus' ears were pinned straight back to his head, and Harry thought he'd never seen such a look of ultimate complacency on a horse's face when the bull leaped forward to escape more of those brutal teeth.

The bull plummeted right through the gate, the cowboys tossed their ropes into the pen to be collected later, and Johnny maneuvered Cactus in a flash to the gate and slammed it shut in one smooth motion.

"Yee-haw!" the other cowboys whooped and lifted their hats from outside the pasture fence. Harry was astounded. They had worked together, even under immense strain, as if they had been doing this all their lives. Even Leo—especially Leo, who had only worked here a short time, had performed beautifully in silent communication with his boss, keeping a cool head and doing exactly what needed to be done in the presence of a high level of danger.

Harry felt a rush of admiration for these brave, strong, rugged men who he was sure would have done very well for themselves in the days of the Old West. You couldn't say the same thing for the majority of modern day men.

Now Harry saw what Johnny had been alluding to when he had told him Louis regularly bit off more than he could chew. He'd done a brilliant job, but he'd also put himself in the direct line of fire several times while trying to protect Leo. His fearless horse had not failed him, obeying even when Louis had asked him to run directly into the path of the charging bull on two occasions to divert the attack, and then even plowing right _into_ the bull.

As much as Louis cared about Joaquin, if it came down to it, Harry knew Louis would not hesitate to sacrifice himself and his horse to allow Leo to escape.

Once out of the pasture, Louis turned to Leo.

"You're a big asset to this ranch. I'm sorry about that throw."

"No problem, boss. The bull really had it in for me, didn't he?" Leo's face glowed pink from the exertion and the praise from his mentor, whom, in addition to Harry, he idolized.

"No doubt. But we worked together, and that's what saved us. If you hadn't sidelined that bull, I'd be dead meat," Louis reminded Leo. "And if I hadn't missed me throw, he wouldn't have charged you. Important thing is, though, that we keep workin' together like that. Teamwork makes all the difference."

The next day the hired hands were riding fence when a huge dust storm was spotted by Niall. Harry looked up and saw it was easily fifty percent larger than the only other one he'd yet experienced. A tingling numbness hit him square in the stomach.

"They're common in the summer months," commented Niall as casually as if it were nothing but a puff of dust. He casually dismounted his horse, and Harry noted the others did the same, so he followed their example.

Harry remembered only too well the suffocating feeling of breathing in only dust, and wanting nothing more than to bolt to escape the situation. He fought the cascade of panic spreading through his body. Then he considered his horse, Saber. He would most certainly panic. Louis, taking control as usual, stuffed Harry's confused horse, along with Joaquin, through the opening of a pasture gate that was full of cattle.

"He'll have to mingle with the cows for a few minutes. But I doubt he'll be thinkin' about the cows. The dust storm will keep his mind occupied." Louis' eyes dazzled Harry with an impish twinkle. He had a feeling why Louis had such a devilish look about him. It had to be one of two things—he was either subtly teasing him because he was afraid, or, Harry hoped, he was anticipating Harry running into his arms again as he had with the first dust storm. Well, Harry would not give him the satisfaction of seeing him that afraid again.

But that resolve weakened when the dust storm drew nearer and Harry saw just how much larger it was than the last one. It was not coming directly at them, but it was so enormous that it didn't really matter. They'd still get the brunt of it.

He reflected on how his lungs had felt last time—like bellows that wouldn't work, how his heart had jumped into his throat and thundered in his ears, how alarmed he'd been, almost to the point of believing he would go mad if he couldn't escape.

Harry stood and watched the other hands either holding their horses if they believed them to be steady enough, or putting them into a handy pasture. Leo, the boy-man adopted Louis' and Niall's ho-hum, "here comes another boring dust storm" attitude. He leaned against a fence post, unconcerned enough to light a cigarette. Since when had he picked up that habit? Louis was a bad influence, concluded Harry.

"Better put that thing out, Leo. No use wastin' a perfectly good cigarette. Put it back in your pocket or it'll be shredded like cheddar," drawled Louis.

Harry laughed in spite of his uneasiness. Louis' humor came so naturally that half the time he didn't even know he'd said something funny. It was just part of his dry, sarcastic style.

"What's the matter with you?" Louis said this quietly so it wouldn't carry to the others, his eyes snapping shocking sapphire at Harry, glowering at him in mock anger.

"You're funny. Your metaphors crack me up. Oh, me hat!" Harry gripped his very expensive, beloved hat. The dust will ruin it!"

"No, it won't. These Stetsons are made to stand up to harsh conditions, otherwise cowboys wouldn't buy 'em," Louis assured him. "They withstand years and years in rain storms, snow storms, and yes, dust storms." His bright white teeth and sassy smile tickled Harry's stomach.

The dust storm finally reached them, bringing with it a strong wind that grabbed Harry so hard he almost toppled into the fence. Louis caught him and held him firmly by his upper arms. Disappointment cut cruelly through Harry before he even knew why. He'd expected Louis to hold him as he had during the first dust storm. But of course, cowboys just don't do things like that. Silly and totally mad of him to even harbor the thought. The last one had been Harry's first dust storm, and Louis had felt an obligation to tamp down his panic. But this time he'd have to man up.

Louis was slightly disgusted. Damn if Harry was going to act like a baby. He had to get used to dust storms some time if he was going to stay in Texas. And he couldn't expect Louis to embrace him every time one scared him. Oh, but how he craved it!

Louis removed his bandana and placed it over Harry's mouth and nose. Harry quickly found out Louis' warning about dust storms was crucial—don't open your eyes. When he did, there was nothing but red dust, and it stung when it hit his eyeballs. He lunged forward, the panic winning the battle, right into Louis' arms, not being able to control himself. A sense of _de ja vu_ engulfed him. He hid his head in Louis' chest, and it was essentially a replay of the first time this had happened.

Harry breathed deeply, trying to find some oxygen, yet only succeeding in filling his nostrils with Louis' pleasant, masculine scent. Within seconds, he thought he felt, (or was it his imagination?) a growing hardness against his upper thigh, and damned if he didn't bless that wild dust storm for just a little while. Yes, it was difficult to breathe, but being this close to Louis was affecting him the same. The man's closeness was all it took to have Harry panting like an animal. Could Louis feel his own arousal too? If so, they were in a problematic, inelegant position.

Right about then, Louis shifted his lower body away from any contact with Harry's own body. He was mortified. He'd been so frequently disturbed by his body's reactions to Harry, but this went way beyond embarrassment. He grasped desperately at the hope that Harry hadn't felt it.

Meanwhile, Harry was wondering why Louis had only to look at him in a certain way, or touch him, like right now, and he felt like a slave to the boss' male appeal. The boss had only touched him a few times in the presence of the others since he'd been employed here, and each time it was totally devoid of anything remotely resembling intimacy, but Harry's body had reacted with hunger each and every time.

Harry's stomach somersaulted wildly and a warmth suffused him. When Louis shifted his hips, Harry missed the body contact instantly. But he'd unwittingly stolen just a moment to indulge himself. The way he ceased to care about the rest of the world when Louis was this close was terrifying.

"I need at least one dust storm a day," Harry said, immediately knowing he couldn't retract the words.


	22. Chapter 22

Louis glared at Harry, shoving him away as if Harry was boiling hot, and burning holes in Louis' skin.

Although Louis he didn't say a word, his discomfort with Harry's closeness was as blatant as if it had been shouted from a mega phone.

 _He'd gone too far._

It had been totally inappropriate. Both the closeness and his careless comment. And now Harry knew he couldn't apologize because it might fuel Louis' anger even further, considering Harry was pretty sure Louis had been humiliated when the kiss had almost happened; but this . . . well, it made the situation even more precarious.

As the dust had swirled around them, Harry had allowed his feelings to wash over him without censure. No pretense had touched his features, and Louis had seen it. Harry was sure of it. Even with his face crushed against Louis' chest, the rancher had to see the naked earthiness, the desire, in Harry's eyes before he'd thrust Harry away from him.

Harry didn't know if he should have fessed up to Louis when Louis had trusted him enough to share his secret. He probably should have. As it was, Louis probably felt alone and remorseful. If only Louis knew that Harry had been stir-crazy in his bed last night, not sleeping for crap. Ever since that whiskey-laden conversation, Harry had been craving his boss in the worst way, and he wanted Louis to know how hard this was on him. They were both miserable, no doubt. But he dared not say a word. Anything he said would likely be taken the wrong way.

Harry was not a rash, reckless person, so this behavior he had displayed—latching himself onto Louis in the dust storm for the second time was shocking even to himself. He was scared, yeah, but he had to admit his feelings for Louis had overridden the fear.

The last traces of dust settled at their feet as Louis and Harry stood there as if they were statues, two feet from each other, Louis glowering and Harry looking meek and submissive. The cowboys were retrieving their horses and beginning to mount in preparation to assess the damage to any of the livestock that had panicked.

All except Johnny. He leaned against a nearby fence, lighting up a cigarette and letting his gaze rove over Louis and Harry. He'd seen the embrace, known Harry was afraid of dust storms beforehand, but even so . . . something was off. He'd suspected Harry's orientation for a while, but now he no longer questioned it in the least. Harry was hung up on Louis, and Louis was ready to tear the younger man apart, stem to stern.

 _Because the attraction was mutual, and Louis was in denial._

Johnny watched and made certain Louis wasn't actually going to cold cock Harry before he readied himself to remount Cactus. Harry was just crushing on Louis, Johnny admonished himself. But this crush must be the size of Texas, and he felt a little bit of pity for the curly haired man.

This runaway urgency. It clawed at Harry. He'd been a late bloomer, yeah. But his hormones were making up for it now in a most unsettling way. It gave him no rest, and he could hardly bear the intensity.

When Harry looked in his direction, Johnny discreetly averted his gaze, dragging heavily and anxiously on his cigarette. He didn't want Harry to know _he knew._

Louis . . . he was the kicker. Johnny and Louis had often met women in clubs and occasionally taken a motel room with them. And his boss knew no shortage of women, as his reserved attitude and rugged good looks intrigued them. And there was no doubt his boss had a healthy sexual appetite. When in a nearby room, Johnny had heard with his own ears through the thin motel walls how Louis was capable of pleasuring a woman for most of the night.

But the difference was, Louis had never gotten emotionally involved with a female that Johnny knew of. The boss had remained distant and casual with women, even though he seemed to enjoy sex with them. Johnny had assumed Louis, although respectful and never degrading or abusive, merely used women and walked away.

Johnny had always had suspicions that Louis had been hurt badly in the past, although he didn't know who it might have been. And maybe that was why he avoided women except when in sexual need. Even so, for the last months, Louis had not been eager to go to clubs at all, almost always coming up with an excuse, and Johnny hadn't been able to put his finger on a cause.

So this led Johnny to ponder something that was hard for him to wrap his head around. Louis had never said it directly, but Johnny was suspecting the rancher might even prefer men over women. Oh, there'd never been solid proof—and he'd never seen Louis with a man; it was just a gut feeling, and certain things Louis had hinted about, but Johnny often wondered if, given the chance with someone he was attracted to, Louis could just possibly cave to temptation. He was certainly getting jaded with women—even Johnny could see that. Louis couldn't even seem to _force_ himself to come on to them anymore. Had Louis been putting on a show of being straight all this time?

Louis' attitude with Harry—now that was different. Even though Louis could be a master at deception if the need arose, Johnny had an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach that Louis had better be careful. This situation could go south fast. Louis was emotionally vulnerable. Johnny knew that from the few deep talks they'd had, which Louis had always ended prematurely. They'd had these talks maybe three times in as many years. Louis hadn't outright admitted to anything, but Johnny could see he was under a shitload of pressure. The man was restless. There were things under the surface that Louis had tried to tell him, but he hadn't been able to spit it out, or maybe had decided that Johnny wouldn't understand, or would judge him. His sexuality—Johnny had suspicions that was at the bottom of it all.

Few people knew how caring Louis was on the inside, and Johnny was one of the honored few. Louis opened up to him more than anyone else. With the right person . . . Johnny knew Louis might fall very hard.

Johnny had seen the rancher allow his gaze to linger just a second or two too long when Harry walked past, and he tended to stick a little too close to him when the hands were off duty. Johnny had seen Louis amble around the ranch casually, smoking and checking on stock, yet his eyes were always stealthily keeping track of Harry's whereabouts.

He had a way of looking straight ahead, yet letting his eyes drift to the side to keep Harry at the edge of his vision. And when Leo got a little too close to Harry, Louis magically materialized seemingly out of nowhere. It provided entertainment and amusement for Johnny, but at the same time he feared Louis might not keep his wits about him.

Louis was so sure he was being discreet, was confident his feelings were well hidden, but who knew him better than Johnny? Johnny was entirely too observant, had worked closely with him side by side, day after day, month after month and year after year for too long to be fooled. The other hands, yes—they were too self-absorbed, wrapped up in their own lives, to notice the almost nonexistent clues, but not Johnny.

"Damn it to hell!" Here he was, blowing it. He'd waited just a few seconds too long after the worst of the dust storm to get Harry away from him. The dust had cleared a little too much for his liking when Harry had still been hanging on him. If he'd had half a brain in his head, he would have pulled away while the storm was still making vision almost impossible. He wondered if anyone had seen Harry in his arms, _again._

He hadn't started it though, Harry had! It must have looked like they were gay, the way Harry had snuggled into him.

"I can't help it if he's such a bloody wimp!" Louis lashed out, more or less in Johnny's direction, who was sitting innocuously on his horse. "He's scared of fuckin' dust storms and runs to me. Stop bein' a baby, Harry, and man up!"

Louis stomped off to get Joaquin, leaving Harry feeling pulverized and very ashamed of himself. Harry noticed his hat was gone, but he was so full of anguish over Louis' words that he didn't even go into action to find it.

He found Saber standing in the pasture Louis had so unceremoniously shoved him into, trembling and snorting in a corner as far as he possibly could get from those monster cows that he was sure had it in for him. And beside the horse on the ground lay Harry's hat, quivering in the last weak gusts of the dust storm. Saber was eyeing it suspiciously, and in his nervous state, expected it to pounce on him at any moment.

"Oh, you poor thing!" Harry went to his horse and unwrapped the reins from the saddle horn, leading him back through the gate. A dust storm, killer cows and a menacing, dancing hat all at once! The poor horse would surely break under the strain.

Louis was still plenty shook up from what had taken place a few minutes ago, and made no comment about the fact that Harry was encouraging his new horse's unfounded fears. He was babying his horse as much as himself! Those two deserved each other, damn it!

As Louis walked into the pasture to get the bombproof Joaquin, who stood with a hip cocked, half asleep with boredom, having seen just about everything in his years doing ranch work, Louis' eyes stabbed Harry's with open distain.

Louis said to Joaquin, "That young spooky horse needs his ass kicked, eh?" He said it loud enough to reach Harry's ears, and Harry wisely ignored it.

Time to learn how to shoot. For the last week, Louis had avoided Harry as much as he could. He'd eaten meals with at least two men between them, and always rode either in front of or behind Harry as they did the daily ranch work, never beside him. He distanced himself cleverly, dodging him and weaseling his way out of ever being alone with him.

But this, he couldn't get out of. He'd promised Harry and Leo he would teach them to shoot. Everyone else on the ranch could handle a gun, and Louis felt that should extend to Harry and Leo as well. You could never be too careful.

"Grip it higher and more firmly. Like this." Louis stood directly behind Harry, placing his hands on his, trying to build the younger man's confidence in handling the .38 revolver. There was no way on God's green earth that Harry could concentrate.

The heat of Louis' body as he instructed him with voice and touch distracted him so he could barely breathe, let alone learn how to shoot a gun. But how in the world would Louis understand Harry's discomfort without Harry explaining in graphic detail how just a touch from him seared his skin, tripped his heart, and everything else faded away but Louis?

Of course, Harry wasn't about to breathe a word of his condition to the rancher, so he'd just have to find some way to pretend he wasn't so near that he could feel his warm breath on the back of his neck, his body pressed up against his. He tried again and again to listen to the instructions, follow them, but he could think of nothing but how this felt disturbingly like when he'd been up against Louis' body during the dust storm.

Thankfully, Louis finally stepped back to let him practice, and Harry struggled to remember what he'd been told. Harry stood sideways, legs apart and braced, both hands gripping the gun, closing one eye and aiming at the bottle.

Slowly, he squeezed the trigger as he'd been told to do by the boss, instead of jerking it. When it fired, Harry was prepared for a jolting kick, but it wasn't nearly as bad as he'd feared. He could handle this. And after a few tries, he was coming closer and closer to the bottle Louis had set up for him. Leo hadn't done as well as Harry, struggling to get the instructions unscrambled in his head. How Leo could be so good with horses, ropes and livestock, and so shaky with a gun had Harry bewildered. Harry was rather proud of himself, because Leo wasn't gay and didn't have to work with a devastatingly sexy distraction as Harry did.

After a couple of hours, Harry had hit the bottle quite a few times, and Louis looked satisfied. Leo was now hitting it more often, and had almost caught up to Harry. Louis said they had both surprised him with their accuracy. Now all it would take was lots and lots of practice. Just like the rope.

Harry realized how busy he was going to be in the next few months with work, training his horse, honing his roping skills and learning to shoot. But he never stopped being grateful for a second. For his job, his horse, even for a relatively compassionate, although sometimes cold –hearted, grumpy boss.

Summer brought temperatures in the high nineties by the next week. The creek had looked very inviting to Harry when he'd been busy with his shooting lessons, and now it beckoned to him with an insistence he could not ignore for long.

From the glimpses Harry had had of it, It was peaceful looking, with the prairie grass growing in abundance around its borders, and the creek itself being larger than he had anticipated—at least fifty feet wide. Fruitless mulberry trees had been planted around the border many years ago, and they were now large and offered generous shade.

Work was even more demanding now that the hot weather had set in. Every task took extra effort and the energy the hands were required to exert was nearly doubled because of the oppressing heat.

Fortunately the nights cooled by about fifteen degrees or so. Still, it was uncomfortable, and the hands ran the air conditioning unit along with fans to help them sleep.

One early evening around twilight, Harry stood close to the fence where his horse was kept. Each hand's private horse had its own corral and shelter. The other ranch horses were kept together in small bunches in various scattered corrals, the remuda being the closest and handiest corral to the bunkhouse.

Harry often visited Saber after dinner just to talk to him, feed him treats and absorb the fact that he was really his, and wasn't going to disappear like a hopeless fantasy.

The horse was coming along well, although Harry had reservations about him completely losing his skittishness. But he was accustomed to him now, and it no longer bothered him when the horse jumped in alarm at a jack rabbit or lizard.

"How about we go to the creek Sunday?" Harry said to Saber. "Would you like that, yeah?" Harry wouldn't have to tie him because Louis had helped Harry train the horse to hobbles early on. A swim would sure feel good, mused Harry. He rested his forehead on Saber's soft mane.

Lounging against a nearby tree, in the shadows, Louis felt a bit guilty while listening to Harry talk to his horse, but he hadn't planned on eavesdropping. He'd been strolling as was his custom around this time of day. That is, if he wasn't too dog tired after dinner and a shower. He liked to eyeball as much of the stock in nearby pens as he could before he hit the sack. It also served to help him unwind after a hard day. It was easy to forget something on a place with this much livestock to keep an eye on. Making the rounds helped to reassure him that all was under control.

So Harry was going to the creek on Sunday? He made a mental note of that, although he knew he'd be as likely to forget as he would to forget to breathe.

He still felt bad about calling Harry a wimp, and felt an apology was required. Harry hadn't indicated anything at all, but Louis knew he was hurt. He'd been too hard on him again. Having the guy's arms around him had been distressing, knowing Johnny had seen, and he didn't want Johnny to think for a minute that there was anything between them.

Sunday was hot and still. A perfect day for swimming. Harry got up at seven-thirty, putting his swim suit on under his Wranglers. He'd head out as if he was just going for a ride on Saber, which he often did on Sunday. No one would take much notice. Most everyone on the ranch was still asleep anyway.

After a not too filling breakfast of cold cereal, Harry could hardly contain his eagerness to head to the creek. Cookie wouldn't be serving breakfast until at least eight or nine, knowing the hands slept in on Sunday. Harry wanted to slip away unnoticed if possible.

Scarcely a breeze disturbed a single blade of grass anywhere as Harry ran a brush over Saber's glistening coat that was short and sleek now that he had completely shed out for the warm weather. The creek was only a short distance away, and Harry decided to jump on bareback. He knew the horse would have no objections since he had already experimented with him on that score. Some horses resented being ridden bareback, and would buck, but Harry doubted anything he did with this sweet natured horse would offend the gelding.

Slipping on the bridle, Harry waved to Johnny, who seemed to be the only one up, hopped on Saber's back and rode off. Leo had hinted the night before that he might think about going for a ride today, since he knew Harry often rode alone on Sundays, but since Harry did not respond to his hint, he had stayed behind, sulking glumly in his bunk. Harry hadn't meant to be rude; he just preferred to go to the creek alone. Being with these guys every day, and even sleeping with them in the bunkhouse every night left him with a need for some time by himself.

Louis watched all that occurred, leaning against the bunkhouse out of Harry's direct view without being obvious, in his cunningly lazy way. An observer wouldn't have guessed what was on his mind. He appeared to the casual eye to be looking out at a far pasture, unconcernedly dragging on his cigarette. Harry hadn't seen him—he was willing to bet on it.

But Johnny, busy oiling his saddle on the bunkhouse porch, flicked a sidelong glance at the rancher and saw how Louis' eyes followed Harry's progress as he rode off.

Johnny thought about the healthy lust that Louis harbored , and how it had been squashed completely lately. So he studied Louis with intrigue as the man gazed at Harry's retreating form on the spunky little Arabian. There was more than random interest there—more like a concentration that suggested a plan.

His hunch had been right on the money. Louis was heaps and heaps more interested in Harry than any of the women in town had garnered. Gone was Louis' polished, practiced ease with the fairer sex. It had been coming on, albeit slowly, for some time now. Louis still appreciated a pleasing female body, but not with his old enthusiasm.

Johnny had tried to brush off his fears about the boss' feelings for the new ranch hand, telling himself Louis was just captivated by Harry's work ethic and kind heart, but the more he pondered it, the more that idea didn't hold water.

As Johnny mused on the past, Louis Tomlinson had, in fact, never been overly impressed by beautiful women. Whereas youngsters like Leo and Niall and even Nick, the shy one, clearly weren't immune, and were frequently bowled over by a charming woman, such had never been the case with Lou. He kept his emotions carefully tucked away and completely separated from sex. Lou might enjoy sex, but Johnny had a feeling it was only to free himself temporarily from the inevitable frustration, and lately the boss man had been vaguely preoccupied, and only someone who knew him as well as Johnny could detect it.

Perhaps Harry merely represented a challenge that Louis couldn't resist, but Johnny would bet his hat and best pair of boots that Louis was more than lusting after Harry. He really seemed to care about him too. Harry was rare—there had never been a ranch hand like him in all the years Johnny had worked here. Johnny, although straight, could almost understand how much he would appeal to someone who wasn't necessarily straight as an arrow, like himself.

As Johnny mulled these thoughts over in his mind, his fingers reaching into the tight spaces between the conchos on his saddle, he glimpsed Louis pushing away from the side of the bunkhouse, flicking his cigarette to the porch, stamping it out with his boot. A strange tension seemed to emanate from the edgy rancher. Before Louis made a single move, Johnny knew instinctively what he was planning. He was now heading toward the corral that housed Joaquin.

Johnny pinched his lips together thoughtfully.

 _The fool was going to follow Harry!_

 _He's a grown man and he knows what he's doing,_ Johnny admonished himself silently. _But I never thought I'd see the day when Louis Tomlinson would be besotted so badly that he had to sneak around like a snake stalking its prey._

This was precisely why Louis had shown no interest in going to town. It explained the slight change in the man's persona. When a man has a special someone on his mind, he has little appetite for others.

Louis struggled to force himself to put on a show of saddling Joaquin slowly, leisurely, as he often did on his days off when preparing to make rounds on the ranch. This was common practice for him, so no one would suspect a thing, he thought to himself.

But Johnny, without a doubt, knew exactly what he was doing, and Louis, lost in his pensiveness, hadn't a clue.

 _Harry was blinding him,_ thought Johnny. Louis was losing his meticulous awareness of his surroundings. He was letting his guard down, and that niggled at Johnny. Being this wrapped up could spell trouble when Louis needed to be on his toes. So in his loyalty, Johnny was prepared to take up the slack.

Not sure whether to grin or scowl to himself, Johnny schooled his features to remain passive as he continued to oil his saddle. He knew as well as he knew his own name that the other man would not head directly to where Harry had gone.

And Johnny was right. Louis touched two fingers to his hat brim to Johnny in salute as he moved his mount off.

"Gonna check things out on the home front," Louis grinned slightly and Johnny nodded as the ranch owner casually rode off at a slow trot in the opposite direction Harry had gone. But Johnny was not fooled—not for a minute.


	23. Chapter 23

Louis rode a wide arc out to the furthermost pasture to the south. He practiced control and rode slowly, his sharp eyes traveling over the stock he encountered on his painstakingly furtive journey which would eventually have him ending up at the creek. Even so, he barely saw anything. His mind was engaged elsewhere. Wanting to urge his gelding to a faster pace, Louis forced himself to allow the horse to pick his way so the rider would appear to an observer to be unhurried.

It wasn't easy. Louis had to mentally slow his roll. His hunger to see Harry swimming nagged him relentlessly. But if anyone were to suspect his destination, he and Harry wouldn't be alone for long.

Oh, they'd be subtle about it, pretending they were just riding by, maybe trying to peek through the trees while they were at it, but the idea of any one of the others intruding set Louis' nerves on edge. He was especially worried about Leo, whom he was sure was benign, but had an incredible talent for tracking Harry down.

Louis could only hope that Leo wouldn't do that today, because when it came to Harry, the kid was positively a pest. He had hero worship for Louis too, but he absolutely put Harry on a pedestal. Harry had never encouraged him, but just the fact that he was nice to him seemed to be enough to keep Leo's fires burning. So there was no doubt that given a ghost of a chance, the boy would ruin this beautiful Sunday at the creek by showing up with an innocent look on his face, knowing Harry wouldn't be rude enough to order him to leave. Leo was good at taking advantage of any opportunity to spend time with Harry.

Louis' mind was working constantly. Of course, there was always the possibility someone else on the ranch would decide to go swimming today. But it was a chance Louis would have to live with. One thing was for certain—he could not pass up this rare opportunity that dangled in front of him like a carrot before a horse. Even though he'd told Harry that nothing would happen (or nearly happen) again. Not even the thoughts.

By the time Louis made his way to the northern pastures, it had been nearly an hour. But he'd seen Harry take a paper bag along with him, and assuming it was something to eat, he was counting on the Cheshire lad planning to stay at the creek past lunch time.

Doubling back in the direction of the creek, still in a wide arc, Louis felt satisfied he had not been detected by anyone at the ranch. And probably not by Harry . . . yet. There was Louis' horse, Saber, grazing peacefully on the prairie grass that grew thickly around the creek, meekly accepting the hobbles that were secured around his lower front legs. The gelding was getting a lesson in restraint, and Louis nodded to himself in silent approval.

His heart began to skip and his ankles felt strangely weak and shaky in the stirrups, his hands quivering numbly on the reins as he neared the thick stand of trees that lined the creek. He could see nothing as of yet, but there was no mistaking the distinct, gentle splashing sounds of someone swimming.

Harry thought he heard a twig snap under a horse's hoof, but disregarded it, assuming it was Saber. A moment later, he saw him, and his heart leaped into his throat. Louis had reined Joaquin in at the far edge of the creek and was just sitting there, mutely watching him in a very regal-like, dramatic way. His horse threw his head with a restless power that was reflected in the man's eyes.

Louis had removed his hat, his hair glinting a rich, burnished gold in the bright sun. He didn't even try to hide the fact that he had come here, knowing where Harry was. He could so easily have pretended to come for a swim, approaching from the other side, acting unaware Harry was here, pretending he hadn't seen his horse. But his actions were honest and open—and Harry had to admire that.

There was no room for doubt—his eyes told Harry he had purposely sought him out. Aghast, Harry looked at those brilliant blue eyes as Louis began to dismount. A thrill gripped Harry, and he tried to find his voice as the man untied his hobbles from his saddle and proceeded to unsaddle his horse.

This done, Louis slipped the bridle off, hobbles in place, and Joaquin moved off slowly and began to graze. Almost immediately, Louis began to peel off his shirt. Sweat glistened on his golden skin, his corded arms flexed as he threw his shirt aside. God he was fit! Muscled, but not too bulky and not too lean.

"Mind if I join you?" He gave Harry no time to voice an opinion, however, as he just as quickly shucked his pants, Harry getting a quick view of his red swim suit, and dove in as gracefully as a dolphin.

Shocked beyond words, especially after Louis had been avoiding him all week, Harry clasped his palm over his mouth.

So, he'd planned this. He'd seen Harry ride off, and he'd shown up an hour later. The trunks had fit snugly—almost indecently form fitting. They were not a whole lot more substantial than Speedos, yet they looked tasteful on him. As if they were made for him.

Louis' head emerged from the water only feet away from Harry. Harry was immersed nearly to his neck, so he was comforted a bit by the fact that Louis couldn't see him in his swim suit. He felt a little on the bashful side, knowing Louis' body was in better shape than his. He'd become more muscled since working here though, so maybe it wasn't as bad as he thought.

They stared at each other wordlessly. Louis looked a little on the smug side. Harry suspected he was practicing his excellent skills at making Harry squirm. It was working.

"How did you get tan all over like that?" blurted Harry, desperate to say something, _anything_.

"I usually lay out in the sun on me days off. But the tan's startin' to fade now that I haven't been doin' it lately. I'm a sun worshipper."

So he laid out in the sun _naked?_ No, he probably just meant he wore shorts or a swim suit. Harry tried to pry his mind out of the gutter, and the thought of a naked, golden Louis.

Good Lord, he looked like a greek god, with the water gleaming in sparkling drops on his muscled shoulders. That tucked in waist Harry had viewed as Louis had dove in, those killer thighs . . . Harry was suddenly relieved his boss couldn't see below the water line.

"I was . . . a little rigid with you again," began Louis. "I didn't really intend to call you a wimp."

"Um . . . " Harry didn't know how to react to that statement as it had been completely unexpected.

"Maybe one day dust storms will, um, be somethin' I'll just accept like you do," Harry said weakly. "What if someone comes by?" Harry had no idea why he'd said that. It disclosed a whole lot about his state of mind, and he hoped Louis didn't catch it.

"Nothin' wrong with swimmin'," Louis sent a puzzled look his way. "If they have any brains, they'll see our horses and stay away."

"But why? Nothing's goin' on." Now Harry was wondering if Louis was playing along to see how he would react. Did he think Harry was suggesting the others were suspicious? Was Louis planting seeds on purpose to get answers out of him? He almost made it sound like something _was_ going on.

Louis looked amused, his eyes twinkling. There was that shit-eating cocky grin of his that Harry had seen a few times before. Sometimes he seemed to balance precariously just this side of arrogant.

"Don't be afraid. I won't rape you," Louis chuckled as he said the words, and Harry felt exceedingly like a dumb ass. Louis was razzing him and making him feel self-conscious.

Harry tried to wrench his eyes away but found he was pretty much helpless to do anything but stare. He reckoned he might be lucky enough to get a view of the Donny chap's ass when he exited the water. It looked incredible in jeans—it must look phenomenal in that tight fitting swim suit. But he couldn't let Louis know he was checking him out because Louis would probably freak. After all, Louis had said he didn't even want _thoughts_ about what had happened in the bunkhouse that night. That meant he was off limits to Harry. Harry wouldn't have known how to come on to him anyway. Harry had no experience in that field, and his rational mind knew that was for the best anyway, even though his reckless rogue thoughts took him elsewhere.

Wanting to escape this stiflingly awkward moment, Harry did the only thing he could think of to escape. He dove backward under the water and continued to the far side of the creek. In a flash, Louis slid silently under the water and glided after him. Harry surfaced, smoothing his hair back with his hands. He thought Louis was still on the other side of the creek. He opened his eyes to find Louis standing right in front of him. He gasped in surprise, totally taken aback.

"You're quite an adept swimmer," he said, just a little bit amazed at how quickly Louis had reached him.

"So are you." Those blue eyes were flashing, burning. They shimmered as the shade from the trees warred with the sun. Such animated eyes, but what was behind them? Humor? Specks of shadows overhead played over his hard muscles while his smile teased in a wicked way.

"Why do you call this a creek? It looks more like a pond to me." Harry made another desperate attempt to get a conversation rolling because the silence didn't seem to disorient Louis as it did to him.

"When me father decided to put it in, he wanted a creek. But after the work had begun, he realized he didn't want it to run through the ranch, because it would cross several pastures, and small calves and foals have an uncanny talent for fallin' in water and gettin' into trouble. So he decided to make it more like a pond. More room for swimmin' too. But we all still refer to it as a creek."

Harry nodded, then searched his mind restlessly for something else to say. Anything was better than the charged silence between them and Louis' traveling eyes that, blessedly couldn't see underwater, but didn't stop them from roaming from Harry's eyes to his lips, and back again.

Instead, Louis spoke. "I like how you're workin' out here on the ranch. We're gettin' stuff done faster than I ever dreamed. As soon as we finish with all the fences, we can start paintin'. I didn't think we'd get to that for some time yet."

Harry blushed with pleasure in spite of himself. He knew how hard Louis' compliments were to come by. He remembered Johnny's comment that if he wasn't actively yelling at you, that alone was a good sign.

"So, what do you think of Texas?" Louis laid back in the water languidly, floating on his back. Harry tried to avert his eyes from those damn swimming trunks.

'I like it a lot, actually. I haven't seen any of the unpredictable weather I've heard so much about though."

"Oh, you will. The summer thunderstorms are spectacular. That is, if you aren't scared of them." Harry didn't say a word, because he didn't want Louis to know that he _was,_ in fact, afraid of thunder and lightning. "You gotta be careful to stay out of the way of the lightning though. And it rains so hard that it causes flooding in a matter of minutes. But me father planned this ranch so well that the water runs off real well. I've been way out there, almost off the property a few times when bad ones hit, and I had to take shelter in a line shack."

"Aren't those cabins of sorts where cowboys go when they're too far away from the ranch to ride in? I didn't know they still existed."

"Oh, they're critical sometimes. Me father built a couple when he bought the place and they do still come in handy every now and then, just like the old days. If you're dead tired, or in dangerous weather, you can hole up in one for as long as you need to, really. They're stocked with canned food so you don't go hungry. And the beds are always made up with lots of blankets, for when the weather is cold. Basically they're just one room cabins, but they also have fireplaces and we keep wood stacked up outside too. Everythin' that's needed."

"You guys think of everythin'."

"That's the way me father wanted it. I try to run the place just as he did. Nora goes and cleans the line shacks every now and then. I like everythin' in order and ready for any conceivable problem."

Harry was impressed. "Until I came here, I knew a ranch was a lot of work, but I had no idea how . . . complex, intricate it all is."

Despite the warm weather, the water in the creek was chilly, and Harry started to shiver. He tried to hide the fact from Louis because he had reservations about getting out of the water. He felt his body left a lot to be desired compared to Louis.'

"Wanna get out? Your lips are turnin' blue. Let's soak up some sun on the bank," and Louis headed for the bank nearest their grazing horses, and Harry realized he might as well get it over with, and followed his lead.

As they climbed up the gentle slope to the bank, Louis took a rolled up blanket from the cantle of his saddle and spread it out.

Harry looked on with interest.

 _Planned much?_

He felt Louis' eyes slicing sideways at him. Even though Louis was diplomatic about it, Harry felt almost as bad as if he were completely naked. Louis flopped down on the blanket.

Harry, not being able to stop himself, admired Louis, who was now lying on his back, his hands clasped behind his head. Harry found him arrestingly alluring. There was nothing put-on or artificial about him. He reminded Harry of a graceful animal. Harry coveted his comfortable, careless abandon.

Harry's eyes began to wander again of their own will. There seemed to be nothing he could do about it. Not an ounce of fat on the man. Those rippling abdominal muscles were riveting. The hair on Louis' chest that looked invitingly soft, the equally silky looking burnished gold hair under his arms, the line of hair that began at his navel and continued on down, below the swim suit . . . all of him was erotic. Harry had the most trouble tearing his eyes away from Louis' lower region. The snug fit didn't hide much.

Louis' eyes, previously closed, opened and gazed at Harry's own eyes. Harry didn't see even a fragment of self-consciousness, just a strange, soft curiosity. Louis had caught him red-handed, staring where he shouldn't have been looking at all.

Feigning annoyance, because he didn't know what else to do with his embarrassment, Harry huffed and slammed himself down onto his back, closing his eyes, wishing he could just disappear into a prairie dog hole with a snap of his fingers and cover himself up completely. He couldn't face Louis now.

Louis must have known of his burning shame, as he began to ask him questions in rapid-fire succession in an effort to help Harry forget his embarrassment.

"So, why did you end up here in Texas? Johnny said he thought you said you came from California. That's a bit of a drive."

Grateful for something to take his mind off his offense, Harry jumped on it.

"There really was no reason in stay in California any longer. I had good friends, but a dead end job. I somehow got this weird urge to travel, to get away from the city. I'd always wanted to live in the country. So I just started drivin.' I guess, in the back of me mind, I knew I'd end up in Texas."

"You don't know anyone here?" Louis looked astounded.

"No. but I wanted to see Texas since I was young." He blushed. It sounded kind of juvenile now, saying it out loud. What must Louis think?

"Are you homesick for your friends, or California in general?" Louis was looking at him intently, and he realized this was no act-Louis really was interested in what he had to say. He was a good listener too. He didn't cut him off like so many people did, or try to dominate the conversation, or steer it to himself. Also, how did Louis know he was a little homesick?

"I love Texas, and I don't want to leave it; at least so far. But I do miss me friends a lot. I had two close ones. Tish and Audrey. I've been callin' them regularly since I got here, along with me mum, of course. But other than that, I'm very happy here. I never knew I could get on so well with a bunch of men." He laughed. "Men don't seem to understand me-" Harry stopped talking abruptly. He didn't want Louis knowing he felt awkward around straight guys because Louis might suspect he was full on gay. He was still afraid of messing up in any way, or getting on Louis' bad side.

"You didn't have much of a role model, so you don't feel real comfortable with men?" Louis said this softly, propping himself up on an elbow, facing Harry. He was referring to Harry's father's early death.

"Yeah, kinda."

"I had the best role model. I was very fortunate. Me dad taught me everythin' I know about ranchin'," said Louis.

Harry nodded, but couldn't think of anything of significance to offer.

"But sometimes… correction- _most_ of the time, I try to do as good of a job as me dad did. And that's not easy. He was very regimented and disciplined. I fall short a lot, but it's not for a lack of tryin'." Harry sensed Louis was confiding in him more than he had in others, except maybe Johnny.

"So maybe your life is a bit unbalanced?" Harry asked.

"In what way?" asked Louis, not taking offense, but very curious. The lad seemed to be trying to see into his soul.

"All work and no play?" Harry said it in the form of a question so it wouldn't sound harsh.

Louis shrugged. "Yeah, you could say that."

Louis seemingly had his eyes fixed on something in the trees or sky behind Harry, but Harry knew he was merely deep in thought.

"I had to get up before dawn every day to help with the ranch. Me dad couldn't afford to hire much help when we first got the ranch, so he depended on me a lot. I had to drop out of high school in me junior year. Couldn't keep up with both school and the ranch. It was bloody rough, but, you know, it made a man outta me."

Louis' wet hair was the color of a copper penny right now. It seemed to change according to how the sun and shadows played on it, and Harry was thoroughly enchanted. At the same time, Harry didn't know Louis was enthralled with his own hair, still quite wavy even when soaking wet. Those were some strong-willed curls.

But. . . back to the matter at hand, Harry reminded himself sternly as Louis began to talk again.

"But yeah… I guess you could say I've been unbalanced. I don't really let loose anymore."

"Did you let loose at all the night we talked at the barn dance?" Harry was careful to avoid bringing up the night they'd been alone with the whiskey.

"Yeah..." Louis brightened. "I did, you know? I reckon we had a right good talk that night, yeah?"

"I think we did. And I saw the difference in you," Harry was bold enough to say. He always fretted about Louis taking offense, since the man could have a hair trigger temper.

"Difference? You mean relaxin'?"

"Yeah. You weren't uptight and distracted."

Louis let this register in his mind before speaking. "I guess it's healthy to let go sometimes," he murmured, his voice rather hushed. "But I get high on things, and I really buzz on stuff that I guess I shouldn't. Like what mare I'll breed to what stallion this summer, or what bull I'll get to replace that dodgy Angus."

Harry laughed. "He's more than dodgy—he's out to kill! But those things are your passion—the _ranch_ is your passion. It shows you have ambition. You can do both. Enjoy your work, and enjoy your down time. You really smashed it the other day with that bull. I've never seen anyone outside of a rodeo clown almost get mowed down so many times."

Harry was enjoying this. He was finding he could compliment Louis as Louis had complimented him—he felt comfortable doing so.

Now it was Louis' turn to look humble. "Just part of me job," he reminded Harry. "I'd like to have made that bull me bitch, but I didn't quite succeed."

"Yes, you did! You got him in the pen, didn't you, yeah?"

"With Leo's and Johnny's help. I'd be nothin' without them."

"They're pretty awesome," agreed Harry. "But you make things happen—you're in the driver's seat."

Louis changed subjects before his cheeks burned as hot as the sun. "You miss Cheshire?"

Harry hesitated. "Yeah, it's me home, it's where me mother is, but I don't miss all the rain!"

"Yeah," Louis smiled. "That's one thing I don't miss about England either."

There was a brief silence that was serene this time instead of tense.

Harry remembered something. "Johnny said you captured wild mustangs in the Apache mountains."

"Yeah, it provides me with a week or two of solitude. I camp out there and take me time gentlin' the mustang enough to get it back to the ranch. I mainly do it for recreation, since the horses don't usually bring a lot of money. I enjoy gettin' them green broke. But I only capture one at a time."

"That sounds really excitin.'"

"It's different—very peaceful. It's beautiful out there, to the area where I go, and although I prefer to be alone . . . I sometimes miss some company too." He shot Harry a sideways glance.

Without thinking, the words tumbled from Harry's mouth. "I'd love to go with you!" Then he realized how pushy he sounded.

"Hmm.' Louis didn't trust himself to reply. So he deftly changed the subject again.

"Were you runnin' away from somethin' in California?" He watched Harry closely to see how he would take his rather candid inquiry.

"No. I was runnin' _to_ Texas, not _away_ from California."

Louis believed him. After observing Harry in the time he'd been here, he'd concluded the guy was uncomplicated and straight-forward. His shy manner and lack of confidence, among other quirks Louis had picked up on told the rancher that the younger man had been especially courageous to come to Texas all on his own, but was genuinely searching for his calling in life, and Louis admired that.

Harry had captivated Louis to the point to where he had fine-tuned his senses to the younger man, attempting frequently to read his mind. He had studied him from near and afar, fascinated by his reactions and responses to everyday occurrences. Now that he had apologized for calling him a wimp, Harry's attitude was encouraging. Louis wanted to believe Harry was slowly beginning to see him as a friend. Never had he been so attracted to anyone, and it was becoming positively grueling to deny it to himself.

Harry was only half present as he got lost in his own thoughts. Recently, before Louis had started avoiding him, he had felt as if the man was opening up just a bit to him. And now that seemed to be coming back. He found himself lured in by Louis, and even though he liked it, he wished he could disengage . . . for his own good.


	24. Chapter 24

_What the hell am I doing?_ Louis gave himself a severe dressing down even as he smiled at Harry. A smile that didn't reach his eyes. _I can't get soft with him—it's too dangerous. I'm a responsible, hard-working ranch owner, and I don't need to be getting sweet on my male employee. What the fuck has gotten into me? It just can't, and won't, happen._

Louis' face suddenly took on the cold, stoney veneer he wore when he was being the disgruntled boss. The transformation was instant, and it startled Harry. Louis' demeanor was distant, his movements stiff, making him appear unapproachable.

Then Harry remembered his words about _that_ never happening again. It hadn't even been mentioned, but Harry knew—he just knew, what Louis was thinking about. Harry knew he'd allowed himself to become vulnerable just now, sharing confidences as they had been doing. He had enjoyed it a little too much, and wondered if Louis had too.

But no . . . didn't appear that way. Boss/employee relationship. That was all Louis would allow. He had made it perfectly clear before. Now he had been ignoring his own guidelines. Why couldn't he just _tell_ him they were getting a little too cozy without letting his body and mind grow taut and unyielding like that? Acting suddenly remote . . .

If Harry had been less perceptive, he would have thought Louis was rejecting him as a person. But he knew what was going on, and in his state of mind he felt a little desolate. Louis Tomlinson was a devil. A devastatingly handsome, dashing devil who needed desperately to learn to communicate. Harry felt as if he were being emotionally abused. This deceitful man had led him into answering his probing questions, then had drawn away as if Harry might have designs on him, and his mixed messages were way beyond irritating. Harry was offended.

"I'm leavin' now." Harry had had enough of Louis' mood swings. The guy needed to chill, and stop being so paranoid. Afraid of his own emotions, maybe? Not Harry's problem.

Completely out of character for him, Harry stomped off over to his clothes to put them back on over his swim suit, find Saber, unhobble him and jump aboard to go back to the ranch.

He had barely urged the horse into a fast trot, when there was suddenly no horse underneath him. It was the strangest sensation. Saber's head was nowhere in sight, and the next thing he knew, he was flying through the air. He landed hard on his back, the impact stealing the air from his lungs. Struggling to breathe, Harry sat up to see Saber heaving himself up off the ground and hauling ass for the ranch.

Louis was by his side almost before he had drawn his first tortured breath.

"Harry," he was kneeling by his side. "Are you alright?" his voice was cracking so that it sounded more like a croak.

"Now that I can breathe I am," Harry gasped. "What happened?" Harry looked about him in confusion. It had happened so quickly—in the space of a couple of seconds.

"Saber tripped and somersaulted. Luckily you were thrown clear. He could easily have landed on top of you." Louis was clearly shaken. Harry could tell by the way his voice kept breaking and his hands trembled.

"I'm sure that happens all the time with horses, doesn't it?" he asked weakly.

"Occasionally, but that horse is awfully clumsy to do that at a trot. Usually if a horse does it, it's when he's galloping over uneven ground. Harry, it's dangerous to ride a horse like that. You could have been hurt badly . . . or . . . worse." He couldn't bring himself to utter that Harry could have been killed. Crushed under the horse.

"Why does your voice sound so funny?" Harry inquired.

"I guess I'm all shook up, as Elvis would have said. Are you alright? Nothing's broken, is it?"

Louis had tried to make light of his concern with the Elvis remark, but when Harry looked up at him, he was startled by the raw, naked fear etched on his boss' face.

Gingerly testing his legs, Harry let Louis hoist him off the ground. Relieved that everything seemed to be working, Harry brushed himself off. Louis' whole demeanor was of immense relief.

"I hope Saber's alright," Harry said, gazing in the direction his horse had gone.

Louis chuckled. "I didn't see any lameness, and the only place he's gonna go is back to the ranch. Never saw a horse run anywhere but home. And I'm sure that fall scared him as much as it did you and me. I only hope it taught him to pick up his feet and watch where he's goin,' but . . . " Louis shook his head. "I doubt it. Once a clumsy horse, always a clumsy horse, is what we ranch people say."

"Maybe it was a freak accident." Harry was practically praying his horse wasn't going to prove to be useless, as Louis was hinting at. He was trying to be diplomatic, but the truth still hurt.

"He _does_ stumble more than the average horse, yeah?" Louis was scrutinizing him carefully, expecting him to be honest. Even if he were to lie though, he knew Louis had seen his horse maneuver in a less than graceful manner before. He had actually commented on it too, and Harry had just brushed it off, thinking it wasn't that big of a deal. Now he could see how Louis had had a reason to be concerned. Harry was used to riding in perfectly groomed, level arenas, and it hadn't really registered how important it was that a horse be sure-footed on a ranch until now. He knew he'd do well to listen to Louis.

"Yeah, but I thought it was just because he's still young," Harry continued to grasp at straws.

"I hate to disappoint you, but I don't think he's gonna change all that much. You really should have a horse that's much more sure-footed. He's an accident waiting to happen." Louis shook his head, sorry for Harry, who wanted more than anything for his horse to be something he was obviously not.

"Why did you get upset with me, by the way?" Louis looked puzzled.

Harry cleared his throat nervously and licked his lips. "You . . .you shrunk away from me again. Beside the creek. I saw it in your eyes. You put up your wall again."

Louis looked over Harry's shoulder, deliberately avoiding his eyes.

"You're doin' it again!" Harry protested strongly.

"I know. I also know you aren't being totally honest." Louis threw back at him.

"How so?" Harry feared he knew what Louis was getting at, and there was no rebuttal.

"You lied to me by omission." Louis' eyes were on Harry's now—hard and unyielding.

No use in denying it—Harry knew he might as well disclose it. But he didn't know how to . . .

"I'm stood here, waiting," Louis complained as Harry tried to find the words.

Harry struggled, oh how he struggled, to get the words out.

"I get knackered just _thinking_ about tellin' you."

All his blunders, all his oddities, and Louis was still mesmerized by him. He waited and wondered if Harry would make something up, or be straight up with him.

Harry took a bracing breath. "What . . . happened in the bunkhouse that night . . . oughta tell you . . . how I feel," Harry said weakly.

Louis suppressed a gasp at this blunt honesty, but he'd asked for it. He forced himself to respond. "How _do_ you feel? No more beating 'round the bush. I wanna hear it in your own words."

Why was Louis torturing him like this? Wasn't it evident enough without having to endure Louis' special brand of torment?

"Okay, you want it full stop? So I don't have to keep 'beatin' 'round the bush?'"

"Yes! I need this out in the open," Louis paused, looking even more like perhaps he shouldn't have insisted—like he felt he was going to be sorry.

 _Too late for that._

"Okay . . . I . . . I . . . fancy you. Does that make you happy?" Harry was in a rare sassy mood, but damn it, Louis had pushed him to this point.

Louis' face paled. He'd already known, of course, but hearing the words spoken so frankly, so unadorned, threw him off balance, made him sweat.

Louis tried to digest it. He'd demanded it after all.

"And I know what you're gonna say next. That you don't even want the thoughts," Harry said before Louis could.

Haplessly, Louis drooped visibly. What could he do to change this? Exactly nothing. Facts were facts.

"Yeah," the single word hung in the air lifelessly.

"Are you okay?" asked Harry after a moment while observing Louis shivering slightly. Louis tried to disguise his delicate state of mind. But Harry wasn't buying it. Harry could see that this conversation was having a major impact on his boss.

"Come on, I'll take you home on Joaquin," Louis blurted out without answering him. He went to Joaquin, saddling and bridling him. He handed the reins to Harry. Harry mounted obediently, and Louis swung up behind him right behind the saddle, no stirrup needed. Harry realized that Louis knew Harry wouldn't have been able to pull that off as gracefully as he had. Harry had to agree—he could just see himself accidentally hitting Joaquin in the butt with his boot, or pulling Louis out of the saddle while trying to get up, and causing yet another accident today. One was enough.

Louis held onto the cantle on the way home. Harry struggled to maintain his poise, knowing how close Louis was behind him. He tried not to lean back against him, but when Louis tired of the rough trot and urged the horse into a slow canter with his heels behind Harry's legs, Harry's body naturally tilted back, and he came up against Louis' hard, warm chest. It was a slow, delicious burn, and they got back to the ranch much too soon for Harry's liking.

Harry hoped against hope that no one had noticed that his horse had returned without him. But that, of course, was too much to ask for. All four of the hands were lined up by Saber's corral, watching Louis and Harry approach, riding double on Joaquin.

Harry was disconcerted and distressed to see Leo held Saber's bridle reins, his mouth a wide circle of alarm. They pulled up with Harry knowing his face had to be cherry red. Louis curtly explained to them what had happened as he dismounted, Harry easing to the ground shortly after. Harry cleared his throat, pretending to brush dust from his jeans, carefully avoiding the four pairs of eyes that were riveted on him. They were concerned about him, wanting to be sure he was unharmed, but he suddenly felt as if he were on public display. All he wanted to do was escape their gazes.

"I'm gonna go take a shower," he uttered weakly, walking swiftly past them. Remembering Saber, he did an abrupt turnabout, but Louis, having claimed Saber's reins from Leo's grasp insisted on untacking the horse and giving him a quick grooming before putting him back in the corral for him.

"Thanks," Harry murmured, shocked at the offer. A looked passed between them that had Harry gulping and trying to catch his seized breath. Those blue eyes that reminded Harry of what the Caribbean looked like in pictures he'd seen were full of quiet, forgiving wisdom.

Harry was glad that everyone just assumed he was acting strangely because he was humiliated because of his fall. They had no idea of the biggest reason. Louis knew it though—it was not only Harry's confession, but also that Harry was trying to hide how Louis had affected him on the ride back. Because he, himself, had been affected in the same way.

After ducking into the bunkhouse, Harry stripped and stepped into the shower. There he discovered a couple of bruises already forming on his left hip, where he assumed he'd landed. It had happened so suddenly that he remembered nothing but realizing he was on the ground, and the way the air had been punched from his lungs. His left ankle was also sore, but that seemed to be the extent of his injuries. He realized he'd probably be sore tomorrow, but was relieved he hadn't broken an arm or leg.

The wisdom of Louis' warning kept coming back to him. Just his luck—he'd taken his chances by getting a green-broke horse, a horse that might also turn out to be incurably clumsy. Or so that was the way it appeared right now. And he _did_ trust Louis' judgment, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

As he washed the dirt from his skin that his fall had collected, Harry breathed a huge sigh of relief in his knowledge that Louis was now aware he was gay. It was out there now. It was an admission that he probably should have made the night Louis had all but admitted his own affliction, (if you wanted to call it that) but Harry hadn't wanted to make it look like he was thinking, "Hey, we're both gay! So let's get together!"

No, Harry took things of that nature much more seriously than that. It was specifically why he hadn't fooled around with anyone before, knowing full well he was an anomaly to still be a virgin at twenty-three.

Once out of the shower, Harry joined Johnny on the bunkhouse porch. Fortunately, the others had found various pastimes to occupy them, and he didn't have to face them all at once. Harry was ashamed and embarrassed by what had happened, and still worked up from his conversation with Louis. Random thoughts and snippets of their conversation flitted around in his head. He remembered that Louis had actually smiled at him, _after_ he'd fessed up. So did this mean Louis accepted him, gayness and all?

He had a sneaking suspicion that Louis might have scattered everyone but Johnny on purpose, threatening to put them to work if they didn't make themselves scarce. His ability to sense Harry was uncomfortable was something Harry was appreciating massively right now. Johnny sat quietly on the bench beside him, shooting the breeze casually with Louis as if nothing at all unusual had happened today. Their easy manner gave Harry a sense of solace.

But he felt guilty for how he'd behaved today. It was bad enough that he'd adopted a haughty attitude and taken flight like that. He must have looked to Louis like a pouting child. But to have his horse trip and fall, and then have Louis be there instantly to help him off the ground was mortifying. _Also, how had Louis gotten dressed so fast?_ He'd been in his swim suit when Harry had stomped off. Harry had told Louis in a roundabout, but still very clear way, that he was gay. That was enough to be ashamed of for quite some time. But then, to top it off, having to ride back to the ranch double on the boss' horse with all the ranch hands staring was the final insult to his bruised pride.

Harry baffled Louis to a certain point, but he also understood that Harry was frustrated with him. And who wouldn't be? Johnny had learned to work around it after knowing Louis for so many years, but Harry . . . Harry was sensitive. His mind seemed to operate more like a woman's than a man's. He was emotional and sentimental. Oddly, Louis liked that. The lad—er, _man,_ brought out some of the soft side in Louis, and really no one but his mum had been able to do that.

Meanwhile, Harry's thoughts were a lot more complex. One day Louis was all business, and the next he was showing up at the creek knowing full well Harry was there. Why did Louis send such mixed signals? He acted as if he wanted to be near Harry, then avoided him for a week, then sought him out at the creek. What was Harry supposed to think? Louis had asked him questions and gotten the answer he'd wanted. But he hadn't abused it. He'd shown kindness when he'd taken Harry's horse from him so he could take a shower. But what would his attitude be now? Or a minute, an hour, or a day from now? Harry could never be sure.

The day commenced with no other incidents of any kind, and no one asked Harry about his somersaulting experience. Louis was pleasant. Harry was about as positive as he could be that Louis had instructed everyone not to say a word, to protect Harry's honor.

Later that afternoon, Harry saw Niall eating a sandwich. Nothing new about that—Niall loved food almost to the exclusion of a lot of other pleasures in life.

But Louis, being his inquisitive self, and knowing Cookie wouldn't allow it because dinner would soon be ready, couldn't resist asking. "Where'd you get that?"

"Found it out by the creek," Niall mumbled through a mouthful. "Looked like a sack lunch someone made up. I figured it was a shame to waste a perfectly good sandwich."

Harry didn't dare look at Louis, but out of the corner of his eye, he could see a smile stealing over Louis' face.

 _Well, at least his lunch hadn't gone to waste._

That night, lying in his bunk, Harry was still keyed up. This had been a very trying, draining day. And that look he'd shared with Louis before he'd taken his shower was haunting him unremittingly, and it could not in any way have been his imagination.


	25. Chapter 25

The air was heavy and still. The temperature was still over ninety, and it was eight o'clock at night. The air conditioning was having such little effect on the heat that it may as well have been turned off. And the woman was getting ready to come on to him. He knew it. He could feel it in the subtle yet thick tension in the air surrounding him.

Ordinarily, Louis would have reacted like a bird dog—catching the scent and mentally pointing on the female of his interest. But tonight, as had been the case for many months, he felt almost nothing.

Ever since adolescence, Louis had had a sex drive that was nearly insatiable. But, even though it had been months since he'd been with a woman, this beauty sitting beside him on a bar stool that she had discreetly scooted to within a foot of his own stool, held no appeal for him.

He figured he should give it one last try. Women had been take-em-or-leave-em at best for a while, and frankly, lately he felt pretty detached as far as his desire went, and this pattern had continued until tonight. But maybe tonight would be different . . .

The blonde with the low cut blouse and short shorts was joking and laughing with the bartender. From the way she kept flicking sidelong glances at him, Louis knew her giggles and flirtations were primarily meant to get his attention. She could care less about the bartender. A moment later, her hand settled lightly on his tightly muscled bicep as she laughed hysterically at something the bartender had said. An excuse to touch him; same old story. Women could be so boringly predictable.

"Isn't he funny?" she said, her eyes gazing at him from underneath long dark eyelashes that Louis suspected were fake. She was referring to the bartender, of course, but her effort to include Louis in the conversation was not very subtle.

Louis smiled and nodded, but didn't even bother to speak. Gazing down at her ample cleavage, he was stunned to realize he felt no stirring of desire, or if he did, it was not enough to even bother with.

 _Was he getting old or something?_

Is this what happened once you hit twenty-five? You started losing your desire for sex?

But almost immediately, another face and body managed to sneak up on his mind and tease it, unbidden. _Harry._ Within seconds he felt that familiar tingling fluttering around in his groin area. If he was getting excited just _thinking_ about Harry, he realized that if it were Harry sitting this close to him, he would be burning up with need.

So there _wasn't_ anything wrong with his body—it was his head. His thinking. He was hungry for only one person, and it wasn't the one sitting next to him. He'd been afraid of that, and that's why he'd come here tonight. To test himself.

Ignoring these thoughts by sheer force of will, Louis draped his arm confidently around the woman's shoulder. Rarely did a woman refuse his attentions. Delighted, she immediately told a rather lame joke and then used her laughter to lay a hand on him again—this time his thigh.

Feeling faintly repulsed, but choking it down, he moved his leg closer to encourage her. Determination to feel something for her made him clench his jaw and steel himself for a rush of feminine wiles. It would be alright, and he would get those old desires back if he could only focus.

Over the next several minutes, her bar stool mysteriously got closer and closer to his until they were only a couple of inches apart. The woman had discovered the patch of hair showing at the vee of his shirt that was never buttoned up all the way.

Initially he had left two buttons undone because he hated the feeling of claustrophobia he got from anything binding. But he had soon discovered that women were attracted to his chest, so now, years later, it was a habit. He'd noticed Harry did the same thing. But not, he suspected, for the same reasons. Harry was just quirky, that's all there was to it. Damn it, he wasn't supposed to be thinking about Harry!

"You're a ranch hand, aren't ya?" the woman asked as she smoothed the gold hair peeking out from his undone buttons.

"Yes ma'am." She must be new in town and didn't recognize him as the owner of the Rocking Horse Ranch, and he wasn't going to volunteer that information.

"A British accent!" she purred. He more or less ignored her comment, merely nodding.

"What ranch do you work at?"

"I work at a ranch out in Odessa." Odessa was about thirty miles away. He figured his statement would discourage her from checking out the local Pecos ranches.

"You're sure a cute cowboy. I bet you know your way around a bedroom too." The woman had clearly been drinking, but was not drunk. Just feeling good enough to lose a few inhibitions. Louis used to like that, as it made his pursuit a hell of a lot easier. But he found that now, he failed to be turned on at all, no matter how much he concentrated.

When her hand moved a bit higher, Louis was momentarily too shocked to move. Before he had a chance to react, she found the hard swelling in his jeans. Being an aggressive woman by nature, on top of the influence of a few drinks, she was extremely pleased with his arousal, not knowing it was the thought of another man that had triggered it.

"Oh my God! What a stud!" She whispered the last three words so that only he could hear it. "Let's slow dance, come on." She clamped onto his hand and tried to drag him onto the small dance floor in the corner of the bar. There was a slow number playing on the jukebox. Wow, thought Louis. This girl moved fast.

Louis, only too aware of her intentions to rub up against him as they danced, somehow wrenched his hand free, slapped a few bills on the bar to pay for his beer, and high-tailed it out the door before she could catch up to him.

Shaking his head, he hopped into the ranch truck he'd brought and headed back to the ranch. Unfortunately, this barroom experience had only served to pique his interest in Harry—something that he kept reminding himself _could not_ happen.

The moment he saw the younger man sitting outside the bunkhouse in a lawn chair, trying to catch a hint of a cool breeze, his blood pounded hot and thick. Harry was wearing a black tee shirt and black jeans, and boy did he look seductive without even trying to. All Louis wanted in the world was to go to him. Furious with himself, Louis strode quickly past Harry to the bunkhouse, without even a curt greeting.

Leo exited the bunkhouse just as Louis was entering. The boss rudely brushed past the young man without even glancing at him. Leo looked back curiously as Louis slammed the door. He shrugged his shoulders and strolled over to where Harry was sitting.

"What's the matter with _him_?" asked Harry irritably.

"Danged if I know. You been workin' here longer than me. All's I know is the boss looks like he's madder than a horse with a burr under his saddle blanket."

Harry smiled. Those metaphors still amused him. "He's temperamental as a rattle snake," he returned, testing his own ability to use a metaphor.

Leo's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Now yer startin' to sound like a true Texan!" he chortled with delight. "Hey, How 'bout you and me take your Rover out for a drive?"

"Are you serious?" It sounded interesting. "Where will we go?"

"Wherever you want. That poor vehicle ain't gotten drove in a while. It needs some exercise."

"Okay. Sounds fun." A spontaneous drive sounded like just the change of pace Harry was looking for on a quiet Saturday night. No telling what Louis was doing in the bunkhouse, but Harry didn't want to hang around with him acting the way he was, so he and Leo jumped into the Rover. Leo offered to drive, and while they sat, giving it a chance to warm up, Leo brought up Louis' odd behavior again.

"The boss sure is a strange one. He's a good boss, don't get me wrong, but when he gets crabby, them storm clouds in his eyes ain't somethin' I wanna mess with."

Harry nodded in bemusement. "Don't tell Louis, but Johnny says his bark is worse than his bite."

"Yeah, I reckon that's true. I never seen him raise a hand to try to hurt no one, 'cept at that barn dance, but them eyes look like lightnin' fixin' to strike."

Putting Louis out of his mind long enough to feel free and happy as he and Leo simply drove around the town of Pecos, no particular destination in mind, some of Harry's tension eased. A destination didn't really matter to either of them. The whole purpose was to just relax and be impromptu.

They ended up at a drive-through ice cream establishment, and sat outside the building on the chairs bolted to tables provided to savor their treats. Leo was exceedingly good company. He never put on airs, and he was naturally funny with an endless supply of stories to tell Harry of his experiences working on other ranches.

"I even rodeoed for a while, but wasn't good enough to go professional," he confessed with a whimsical look in his eyes, as if talking about it caused him to live it all over again. In his short life, Leo had done more than most folks twice his age.

"Oh? What events?"

"Bareback ridin'. Loved it, but it'll knock your teeth clean down yer throat if ya don't know what yer doin.' Speakin' of rodeos, Johnny said there's gonna be one right here in Pecos next month."

"Really?"

"I'm sure we'll all hop in a coupla pick-ups and go."

Leo was now even more animated. Harry could tell rodeos were a big passion of Leo's.

"It'll be fun if everyone goes." Harry agreed. He was liking the ranch life more and more with each week that passed. Even though the work was hard , cowboys played just as hard as they worked, and were always game to throw themselves into whatever entertainment was offered with no holds barred. Harry reveled in the spirit of the simple, old fashioned fun they inspired in him. He hadn't watched TV more than a few times since he'd been here.

Together they sat, shamelessly relishing their ice cream cones, chocolate mint chip for Harry and strawberry for Leo. Harry felt like a carefree child again for this night, this moment. Any worries or troubles that might have dampened their moods dissipated into the hot Texas summer night. To be truthful, Harry had never seen Leo with an attitude of anything but positivity. The atmosphere between them was warm; people passing by, nodding and smiling at them, exchanging greetings and commenting on the weather, a favorite subject for Texas, it seemed.

Harry would remember this night for some time to come. Leo was anticipating the rodeo with a spark in his eyes. His inflections were colorful as he told of the time a rank horse had thrown him and then chased him across the arena.

"He came this close," he held up a thumb and forefinger, "to attackin' me, two clowns—bullfighters, they're called, and another cowboy a whole mess of times. But later that night I got to thinkin' about it, and a mean horse is quick as a cat. If he really wanted to get us, he woulda. He was jus' playin' with us. You shoulda heard the announcer's voice—it was shakin' worse'n a leaf in a dust storm. He thought that ole' horse was gonna stomp us all flat as a pile of flapjacks."

They laughed, and Leo even stomped his booted foot a couple of times for emphasis. Harry had never felt as at home in his life, except for Cheshire. It was just now that he was coming to a full realization of how content he was living out here in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of cowboys and horses for company. They were in many ways like a family. They lived together, ate together, laughed, joked, sweated and complained together. Everyone grumbled occasionally, but not once had anyone gotten angry enough to start a brawl, or shown undue disrespect. And Harry knew that it was due in large part to Louis' guidance and influence. He didn't hesitate to remind them that they should be grateful for their jobs, but his direction was calm and unwavering. He had all the attributes of a leader.

Harry shook himself slightly. What was he thinking of Louis for? Why did the Doncaster chap always seem to manage to slip into his thoughts like the sly fox that he was? He smiled to himself.

Seeing his vague grin, Leo piped up. "Penny for your thoughts." There was a crooked smile on Leo's face. Harry knew Leo's man crush on him would eventually pass, and the boy would be in his glory as girls began to show interest when he lost some of his coltishness. Harry sometimes—often, in fact, wished he'd been born straight. Life would be a whole lot simpler. He envied Leo that.

"Oh, I was just thinkin' how much I'm fallin' in love with the way of life out here." Harry congratulated himself for telling at least half the truth. He despised lying. He _had_ been thinking about that before Louis had barged his way into his mind. As it was, his answer sounded quite convincing.

"It's right nice in Texas," Leo assented as he slouched back in his seat. How he could slouch and sit back at the same time was a mystery to Harry, and he begrudged the lad's ability to leave any lingering worries or troubles behind him at will. The other hands seemed to possess the same talent. It must be a Texas thing.

This sort of attitude was foreign to Harry, who had been accustomed to a certain level of stress and tension in a hurry-up world ever since he could remember. Even as a small child, he could recall obsessing unnecessarily about insignificant things. At least, they would be insignificant to someone else.

Harry's mind was constantly turning things over, fretting about the responsibilities of his job, and always, in the back of his mind, fighting the unremitting guilt over leaving his friends in California, and to some degree, his mum in England. But, the baby bird has to leave the nest sooner or later . . .

Even so, his psyche really knew no rest. Not even at night, in his sleep. All his uncertainties surfaced in the form of disturbing dreams in slumber. So now, he tried to relax, and even though he enjoyed this special night, his muscles were still slightly tensed, his foot tapping continuously.

Leo, in comparison, was almost apathetic in his languor. He just wasn't capable, Harry decided, of being high strung about anything. So Harry just let the quiet envy flow.

On the way home, something scuttled across the road none too quickly, even with great effort. Leo braked to avoid hitting the strange looking animal that tried its hardest to run, but really only managed a medium fast walk.

"An armadillo!" Harry exclaimed. "I saw one outside of the barn dance with Louis that night. But it was much smaller."

Its tiny eyes were focused on some unknown destination, the elongated nose rapidly sniffling all along the way.

Harry felt Leo's eyes on him when he had mentioned Louis' name. Damn! He needed to stop and think before speaking lest he raise suspicions of his hopeless crush on Louis.

A few minutes later, Leo commented on Harry's developing talent with a lasso. Harry felt honored that the lad had noticed how his confidence with a rope had risen, and how he could now settle a loop over ever- faster moving objects. That is, if they weren't moving _too_ quickly.

"You got real spunk and ambition. The other guys think so too." Leo's compliment lifted his spirits, tugged at his heart. Harry felt his eyes well up suddenly, which he carefully concealed from Leo. He really felt now that he was being accepted. They liked him! He was one of them! A ranch hand! He was going to make it after all!

Later that night, as Harry prepared for bed, he discovered a small pile of candy bars under his pillow. So _that's_ what Louis had been doing in the bunkhouse!

The rodeo was well worth attending, and the grandstands were bursting at the seams with people packed elbow to elbow. The bucking stock was superior, and some of the most famous bronc and bull riders in the country were competing.

Belatedly, Harry had found out this rodeo was one of the most popular and well attended in the state of Texas. The cowboys hollered and whooped with more gusto and exuberance than he had ever seen in fans of any sport. These people took a day of relaxation seriously. Nowhere did Harry see a solemn face . . except for his boss. Louis—the exception to the rule, as always.

But one thing was for certain. His unpredictable moods were not going to interfere with Harry's festive feelings tonight. Recently, he had begun to adopt his fellow ranch hands' savvy way of pretending the grouchy boss didn't exist when his face took on that sullen look. They followed his orders, of course, but refused to be dragged down. This, of course, disgruntled Louis all the more. What did he have to be cranky about, anyway, Harry wondered.

"How 'bout we mosey on over to a concession stand and get everyone some popcorn and peanuts?" Johnny's suggestion was very welcome. Harry was growing more and more agitated with Louis' unspoken yet clearly disapproving glances in his direction. It was difficult to ignore, since his cloudy expression seemed to burn into Harry even if he was looking elsewhere.

Once they were standing in the long line for the treats, Harry brought his concerns up to Johnny about the boss. "Is he always this different from day to day, and even minute to minute?" he asked.

Johnny cleared his throat a couple of times, adjusted his collar, and then his hat. He was taking an eternity to answer.

"Well, Harry. He's temperamental, yes. But no, he's not normally _this_ bad. Somethin' . . . somethin' must be eatin' at him." Johnny smiled gently, searching Harry's eyes to see how he was digesting this. Harry was befuddled, and rightfully so. What did Johnny know that he didn't? Because he had a feeling Johnny knew _exactly_ why Louis was so difficult.

"Johnny, what do you think it is? Is there something I should know about?"

Johnny saw that what he had suspected was right on the money—Harry was innocent to the cause of Louis' black mood. "You really don't know, do you?" he looked mildly baffled.

Harry signed loudly in frustration. "No, Johnny! I have no idea!"

Johnny knew he shouldn't tell him. No way in hell would he betray Louis like that. Harry certainly should know by now, and if he didn't, well, that would be because he was in denial—or maybe just didn't want to face it. Harry wasn't a simpleton. But it was also true that the younger man sure seemed innocent as far as these things went. He might not have a whole lot of experience, even though Johnny was about as sure as he could be that Harry was gay. Or at least bi.

Johnny had seen the lost look on Louis' face a little too often lately, and he'd also seen the restiveness in the boss' desire to be alone with this new ranch hand. That day the two of them had gone swimming in the creek . . . Was it possible Louis was bashful with Harry? Louis and the word bashful didn't go hand in hand.

Johnny chuckled to himself, imagining Louis being shy. Louis was about as shy as a linebacker playing in an important game. He knew what he wanted, and he went for it. He was one smooth bastard when it came to women. Time after time, Johnny had seen him charm them right out of their clothes in record time. So what was this between Louis and Harry?

 _Harry was a guy._ That, right there, was the problem. Whereas Louis had once been ravenous for women, he had gradually become almost indifferent to them. And now . . . now Johnny knew why. Somewhere along the way, Louis had come to the realization that he was gay, whether he actively acknowledged it or not, and Harry had been the one to put the final nail in the coffin, the one that had opened his eyes.

Johnny knew Louis couldn't bear the thought that they were both males. He was fighting an inner battle with himself. Louis might be trying to convince himself that he felt nothing for Harry; but he hadn't convinced Johnny. It was a two-way street, and Johnny had a feeling it was Louis who was blocking the road.

"What are you laughing at to yourself about?"

Johnny jolted. He couldn't think of a single reply that would sound believable. He grunted, stuffing a hand into his back pocket, stroking his wiry mustache with the other, tugging at the long ends in his distress. Admitting he'd been chuckling about Louis' way with women was the worst possible revelation he could make right now, not knowing for certain how Harry felt, so he went for the lesser of two truthful evils.

"Promise ya won't go over yonder and tell Louis? You'll keep it under yer hat?" Johnny's solemn expression told Harry he had something serious to say.

"Promise."

"Okay, well . . . I believe that Lou . . . has someone . . . on his mind." Uh-oh. If Johnny could have kicked himself in the ass, he would have. Wrong choice of words, and too much information!

 _You damn fool!_ Johnny chastised himself. He sure hoped to hell Harry would just figure it was a woman, and not himself Johnny was referring to.

Harry clapped a hand over his mouth. He truly didn't know what to say. Who might it be? He hadn't seen Louis with anyone since the barn dance. And even then, there had been lots of girls around him—and not one had gotten any special attention from him.

Harry started to laugh. But he reined in his hysterics, snorting softly, trying to hold in the rest of his laughter that threatened to become raucous if he didn't govern it. He had no idea why he was nearly hysterical, but he had a feeling it was designed to disguise how he _really_ felt.

Harry was covering up. He didn't want Johnny to know how the words had truly affected him. _Jealous._ He must have done a proper job of it too, because Johnny merely looked confused about his laughter.

"He's sweet on someone. But . . . not a word," Johnny warned again. Johnny looked all blustery and Harry continued to wonder who the very lucky woman was.

"Why does he have to be such a downer though, especially here at the rodeo when everyone's tryin' to have fun?" asked Harry.

"Well, I think he's a little jealous too."

"Of who?"

"Everyone—at least everyone you're talkin' to, or have anythin' to do with."

"What? _Me_?" Harry gasped.

Now Johnny _really_ wanted to kick his own ass. "Oh. . . um, I mean . . . he's jealous of attention in general. Wants it all on himself," Johnny tried to repair the damage he'd done, but he knew what he'd said in trying to explain didn't make much sense.

Harry looked thoughtful, having never gotten that impression from Louis, who didn't really seem interested in seeking the spotlight.

Johnny had no idea what was going through his mind, and he hoped to hell Harry didn't say a word of this to Louis.

They had reached the front of the line now, and Johnny ordered two jumbo bags of peanuts and six bags of popcorn. They had their hands full lugging them all back to the grandstands. There was no more opportunity to discuss it further, and Johnny was glad. He'd _really_ put his foot in his mouth, big-time.

When they returned to their seats, distributing popcorn and peanuts, Louis' expression reminded Harry of thunderclouds.. Dark and ominous, his shuttered glance spoke volumes of his brooding attitude.

Niall instantly disapproved of what Harry and Johnny had brought back from the concession stand.

"That ain't gonna be enough!" he grumbled. "I need at least three hot dogs and some candy floss to go with this stuff!" And Niall was out of his seat, making his way to where Johnny and Harry had just come from.

"Hey Nialler! It's called cotton candy here!" Nick called after him, trying to save Niall embarrassment at the concession stand.

"Did you know Pecos had the very first rodeo back in 1883?" asked Johnny of no one in particular.

"No! I can't believe how many people are here in town, though, Has it been a yearly tradition since the eighteen hundreds?" asked Harry.

"Yep," Johnny uttered this last word with his chest puffed out a bit. He was obviously proud of the town of Pecos that he had made his own a long time ago.

"People are here from all over the country jus' for the rodeo. It's July Fourth, ya know."

Harry was momentarily stunned. He hadn't even realized it was Independence Day!" He had been so caught up in ranch work, and learning all things cowboy, and this had occupied most of his waking hours since he'd been hired.

"It's now Texas' largest outdoor rodeo. When we go to leave after the rodeo is over, you'll see just how packed the streets are. In addition to all the spectators, the best rodeo cowboys from all over are here to win big money. Just about all of the 12,000 people living here in Pecos attend the rodeo. I never heard of nobody missin' it. Biggest thing to happen to Pecos every year. You won't never see better bull, saddle bronc or bareback riders. The ropin' will knock yer socks off, and the barrel racers are the fastest you'll ever see."

As each event unfolded, the entire audience threw themselves wholeheartedly into the action. The women were just as involved as the men, and heartily joined the men in standing up, waving their hats and whistling every time a cowboy rode out the full eight seconds.

The hoots and hollers were deafening, and Harry felt himself being swept up and carried into the midst of the excitement as he rode a tremendous wave of exhilaration. He would have to be made of stone not to be enveloped in the camaraderie. Slapping of backs, tipping of hats, rough hand shaking and hearty belly laughs accompanied almost every verbal exchange around him.

Even Louis forgot his self- indulgent brooding for a while. His dour features softened with a wistful fascination, and Harry sensed his tight hold on himself relaxing ever so slightly.

Every time a cowboy would perform especially well, the other hands would throw glances in Harry's direction, smiling with pride to be able to include him, and he felt especially emotional. His heart swelled with sentiment. Leo was in his element, scarcely sitting still for a moment, poking him and pointing to be certain he didn't miss a thing.

On several occasions, the courageous clowns saved a cowboy from being gored by a bull or stepped on by a horse by throwing themselves fearlessly at the mercy of the animals. Johnny and Leo explained how the clowns made an art of baiting and then dodging bulls to protect the helpless, downed cowboys. Harry felt a surge of tenderness and incredible pride for these men who regularly risked life and limb to keep the cowboys safe. He could think of few professions that were as dangerous, and viewed the clowns with awe that he didn't even try to hide.

As he exclaimed profusely over the clowns' selfless bravery, Harry didn't notice how Louis pondered him silently, examining his features, silently appreciating and admiring the person he was.


	26. Chapter 26

The cowboys were traversing the far pastures, and Harry was mulling over the remark Johnny had made at the rodeo. _Still._ It had been on his mind ever since. Harry found himself wondering if Johnny had blundered when he'd said Louis was jealous of Harry talking with or paying attention to the others at the rodeo. Or had it just been an honest mistake? That was completely possible. Harry was _dying_ to know.

Everyone was discussing the plans to start painting next week, but Harry couldn't stop thinking about the conversation and how Johnny had referred to him directly, and then had quickly corrected himself.

In the distance, the skies looked ominous, and distant thunder could be heard. Niall sat up straight in his saddle, honing in on the clouds.

"Looks like a storm's comin,'" he remarked.

"Yeah, I've been keepin' me eye on it, and it looks like it might be a bad one. It's gonna hit soon. Why don't you guys all go back to the ranch? I want to take one last look around this area for that cow that's ready to calve." Louis was obstinate about this kind of thing, and he wasn't ready to give up yet, even though they'd been looking for the cow for some time already.

Johnny knew how willful Louis could be, so he didn't argue.

"Alright, we'll go. But you shouldn't stay out here alone. One of us needs to stay with you."

Harry startled himself by speaking up without even being aware he was going to. The words just scrambled out of his mouth without any prior notice.

"I'll stay with him. I need to learn these things anyway." _Now, why had he said that?_ It was completely true that he needed more experience, but he really needed to stop these verbal slip-ups, he thought to himself. It wasn't his place, anyway. He was stepping out of line.

Harry thought he saw a slight grin on Johnny's face. Or maybe not. Was his mind playing tricks on him?

Louis looked a little put out. "Johnny, you have more experience," he said rather sternly.

"Yeah, and I'm gettin' long in the tooth too. These youngin's are stronger and have more grit. Let Harry stay. Come on, guys," and he waved Nick, Niall and Leo toward the ranch. He made sure they moved out quickly too, so that Louis had no chance to object.

Harry and Louis just stared stupidly at each other. No way was Louis going to gallop after Johnny and the others, because within seconds all that could be seen was the cloud of dust they'd kicked up. Damn that Johnny!

"Well shit," Louis mumbled.

"Would you rather one of the others stayed?" Now Harry was regretting opening his big mouth.

"Nah, nah. I'm jus' wantin' to find that fuckin' cow before the storm hits, and we don't have much time." Well, that made Harry feel a _little_ bit better, even though he was pretty sure Louis was upset partly because he was the one left behind to help. Well, he'd do whatever it took to be as useful as possible.

Louis was quaking in his saddle. _Now why had Johnny gone and done that? Whisked the others away, making the decision on his own that Harry would stay, without even consulting Louis about it?_

It pissed him off. Johnny might be the foreman, but Louis was the owner of the ranch. And besides, that kind of behavior was not typical for Johnny.

Anyway, no time to twiddle his thumbs and solve mysteries. They needed to locate the cow so she could be brought in. Louis would normally leave her out here, but this cow had had a difficult birth last time, and now the weather was threatening to soak the calf, and if it were to get badly chilled, it might be lost.

He should have brought the cow in at least two weeks ago, but he'd kept forgetting with everything else he had to remember on a daily basis.

Lightning was streaking across the sky, and the storm was getting closer by the minute. Harry looked in all directions as far as he could see, but it seemed all the cattle had taken shelter amongst huge rocks, trees, or the lean-to's the cowboys had built here and there for the animals.

"I think it's a monsoon," Louis remarked as he studied the pastures along with Harry. Let's stay out here as long as we can. There's a line shack over there," he said, pointing to the line shack Harry had seen when he'd first become a ranch hand. "But that's only if we can't make it back to the ranch," Louis added.

Harry cast a tentative eye at the storm clouds. Monsoons, he knew from reading about Texas, were fast furious, and torrential. They could soak everything in sight within a matter of a couple of minutes, and if you were unlucky enough to be outside, you too. Then you'd get seriously cold, no matter how warm it was. And the thunder and lightning . . . Harry tried not to think about that. He'd never been in a monsoon, and his heart hammered so strongly that he felt it throbbing everywhere.

 _Why had he volunteered to stay out here? Was he daft? No, he was beyond daft. He was completely out of his mind, enchanted with Louis, and now he was tempting fate._

It was clear before long that they would have to give up the search. The storm was coming right at them, and it was a powerful one. Louis mentally slapped himself for not listening to the weather report this morning, as he usually did. He'd been running late. Some of the most colorful words poured from his mouth, almost causing Harry to blush. But he controlled it, having been somewhat desensitized to excessive swearing since he'd been here. And you didn't reach the age of twenty-three without growing a thicker skin than you'd had before. Still, Harry was painfully aware that he had been a little too protected as a child, and a lot of his innocence had carried over to his adult life.

"Where is that bloody cow?" demanded Louis at the scenery in general. He yanked his windbreaker away from the underside of his cantle and unrolled it, throwing it on, and Harry followed his example. None too soon either, as just then, the rain began to pelt them. Soon, the lightning was tearing a hole in the sky, scaring the wits out of Harry. Almost worse than that was the thunder that cracked like a giant bullwhip and then settled with a _boom_ that rumbled so loudly that Harry felt as if his whole body was vibrating.

Louis noticed how Harry flinched with every lightning flash and roll of thunder. Yep, he could have guessed. Harry was afraid of thunderstorms. With the storm almost right overhead now, Louis realized it would be unsafe for them to ride back to the ranch.

The line shack he'd mentioned was about half a mile away, and it wouldn't take more than a minute or slightly more to reach it if they galloped their horses.

"Line shack!" yelled Louis, trying to be heard over the pouring rain and intermittent thunder. They were soaked with the exception of what their windbreakers covered, their jeans plastered to their legs. Harry had never seen anything like this in his life. He'd heard about these kind of storms, but the reality was something that would be difficult to explain to someone who lived in San Diego.

Louis gestured for Harry to follow as he urged Joaquin into a slow gallop, glad that Harry was not riding Saber today, but another of the remuda horses that was very surefooted and reliable.

Huge drops of rain drove at Harry's face, and he could hardly see, but his horse followed Joaquin. He was merely a passenger.

As they pulled their horses up at the line shack and dismounted, Louis took odds and ends out of his saddlebag at warp speed, and sorted out his cell phone, a pen and small notepad. He then scribbled something on the notepad, using his body to shield the paper from the rain as best he could, folded and tucked the paper carefully back into the saddle bag, tied the reins to the saddle horns of both horses and slapped their butts hard so they would run back to the ranch. Then he pulled Harry inside the building, both of them shivering and quaking with the cold rain and surge of adrenaline brought on by their race to safety.

"What was that note you wrote?" asked Harry through chattering teeth, unable to squash his curiosity.

"I wrote a note so the guys would find it and know we're alright. When you work on a ranch this size, you have to let the others know you weren't thrown from your horse or otherwise hurt. Otherwise they'd come lookin' for us. Everyone thinks the worst when someone's horse comes in alone. The first thing they'll do is look in me saddlebag—it's a cowboy thing. It happens to most of us now and then. I told them we're fine, and we'll be holed up in the line shack. They won't worry now."

"You didn't write that much though."

"Didn't need to.

 _Fine. Line shack._ That's all I needed to write. Tells the whole story. I'm a minimalist—what can I say?"

Harry was impressed. These cowboys had every possible situation covered. But, if it meant life or death, he supposed there had to be a system. Working on a ranch could be dangerous on many levels. If the others had come searching, they could have been hit by lightning.

"How will we get back when the storm is gone?"

"Someone will ride out, leadin' our horses. Simple as that."

"Well, you have your cell phone. That's a good thing," Harry commented.

"Don't get much reception around this area of the ranch. Never have. It's hit or miss at best."

Harry sheepishly remembered that he'd forgotten his cell phone this morning, but he didn't mention it, afraid Louis would chastise him about it

Without any warning, and heedless of Harry's discomfort, Louis threw off his windbreaker, and then the rest of his clothes, motioning to Harry to do the same. Turning their backs to each other, they dried their drenched selves with the towels Louis took from the dresser drawers. There were several changes of clothes also in the dresser, and they threw on sweatshirts and sweatpants.

Harry tried not to recoil when he saw lightning flashing through the windows, but he still cringed when the inevitable thunder followed. Louis saw his efforts to hide his fear, but Louis knew fear when he saw it, and Harry was way past being merely startled.

Seeing the full size bed against the wall next to the dresser to his left, Harry asked a silent question to Louis with his eyes. Louis knew what Harry craved. To be in bed, trying to deny that the storm was right overhead. It was a basic animal instinct to hide, and humans were no different.

"Go ahead. Get under the covers. I doubt it's been more than a few days since Nora changed and washed everythin'. If it smells dusty though, let me know because there's always fresh sheets and pillow cases—blankets too."

Harry didn't waste a moment. He jerked back the sheets and hopped underneath the blankets, covering his head completely. Louis laughed without censure.

"Why do you cover your head?" he asked.

"I feel safer this way," Harry's muffled voice filtered out. "Smells freshly washed, by the way."

Just then, a deafening crack of thunder literally shook the line shack underneath them, and Louis felt a certain degree of pity for the younger man. The lump under the covers that was Harry was trembling violently now.

Louis' rush of compassion overtook him, and without thinking, he approached the bed, kneeling on it and patting Harry's back awkwardly. "It's alright, lad. The worse of it'll be over soon." Shit. He'd goofed up—he'd called him "lad" again. But for some reason, it seemed to come from a protective element ingrained in him when it came to Harry.

The storm gave Harry no peace. Even though he didn't see the lightning from underneath the covers, there was no way he could escape the thunder. Even if he'd had his ears plugged, he would still feel the pulsation of it when the bed trembled.

Louis didn't know how to handle this. He wasn't the best person in the world with lending sympathy. But he felt so damn guilty about Harry quivering like that, alone, in a strange bed, battling fear of the unknown. Sighing heavily, Louis did the only thing he could think of. He crawled up completely onto the bed, pulled the covers back briskly, and dove under the blankets before he could talk himself out of it.

Silence prevailed. Louis eased his head under the covers. He felt this might reassure Harry more than anything else he could do. He wanted him to know he wasn't alone.

Harry was flabbergasted. Louis! In bed with him? Rubbing his back? Yes, the patting had turned into gentle rubbing.

"I know, man up!" Harry whined. "But this is worse than me fear of heights!"

 _Heights too? Oh God._ What else terrified Harry that he hadn't admitted to yet?

Harry was surely an enigma. Tender, yet tough when the going demanded it. Polite and passive, but also driven. Understanding, hot, sweet and vulnerable. He was all of these things and more . . . so much more, and Louis wanted to know it all.

"Nothin' wrong with bein' afraid of loud noises, and you can't be _that_ scared of heights if you ride horses!" Louis sounded serious, but Harry knew he had to be joking. And yet, at the same time, Louis maintained just a little bit of mystery in the way he kept Harry guessing.

Through the haze of disbelief, Harry was amazed that Louis would dare show his softer side, even under these circumstances. They faced each other, Harry in the fetal position, and Louis' hand draped over him, still rubbing, and it felt so soothing on his back. He was just starting to breathe with a little more ease when another ear-splitting crack of thunder quaked under them, the rolling sound that came afterward almost as loud, and sounding like a massive wave about to swallow them up.

Harry sprang forward, petrified, smacking right into Louis. Louis didn't jump back as Harry expected. Instead, he continued to rub his back with no break in the rhythm.

"Not much longer. It's okay. Steady now. Happy days." Louis' monotone had a hypnotizing effect on Harry. Slow and easy. Their breathing synchronized, Louis' solace melding them together with nothing more than Louis' hand on his back. Gradually, Harry's shivering slowed "I think it's passed." Louis whispered as if they were hiding from something. Louis' hand continued to linger on his back, and that was fine with Harry.

Realizing there was no more need to be touching Harry, Louis' head popped out from under the covers and he cursed.

"Wassa matter?" Harry was afraid the line shack had fallen down around them or something. Man, but he was paranoid! He needed to get a grip!

"The firewood is outside, and the little overhang isn't enough—I should have brought some in, but by now it's completely soaked. We won't be able to have a fire."

"That's okay. Just as long as we still have a roof over our heads," Harry answered, relieved it was nothing serious.

"Harry, know what? The roof—it doesn't leak. It's checked now and then, but still, those monsoons put out a lotta rain. Look, not a single drip anywhere. Hey, remember how warm it was before the monsoon? The rain made us cold because we were soaked, but now it's warm again. Not too warm, but just right." Louis hoped his aimless chatter would bring Harry out of his trepidation.

And in fact, it worked. Harry cautiously inched his head out from under the covers. "You're right!" he said gleefully.

Louis got out of bed and looked out the window. "The bad news is, that isn't all we're gettin'. . . .there's another storm comin' right behind it. But doesn't look like it'll be a thunderstorm—just rain."

Those words were music to Harry's ears. Rain he could handle. Especially if it meant he was here, inside with Louis.

Harry took his first opportunity to look around. He hadn't taken notice of anything before because of how cold he'd been, and how afraid.

Rough hewn wood made up the line shack that was a single room, about twenty by twenty. Some cabinets, a couple of shelves, a dresser, the bed and a couple of chairs and a rug in front of the fireplace was all that adorned it. Bare bones. Very rustic and rugged. It reminded Harry of the line shacks in the old Westerns he'd watched on the telly. They didn't need any more than this. It was shelter, and that was their biggest necessity anyway.

 _Fuck! What had he been doing?_ He'd been in _bed_ with Harry! Louis was thoroughly disgusted with himself. In fact, he despised himself. His dad was probably rolling over in his grave.

Louis pulled one of the chairs to the window and peered out, studying the incoming clouds, watching the rain, listening to the steady drone of it. Harry didn't know what to do or say. And so they waited for the upcoming storm, awaited a word from each other, but nothing broke through the impenetrable silence. Shadows began to grow. It was already getting late, and the black clouds made it seem even later.

Then Louis' voice cut through the silence. "They won't be back for us today. There'll be too much rain."

The significance of this statement felt like a clamp tightening around Harry's chest. He and Louis stuck in this line shack, alone, and only one bed! And not even a big bed—full size, but certainly not a whole lot of room for two guys. He didn't know whether to bask in the satisfaction of the thought, or scream in fear.

"Guess we'll have to be bedmates, yeah?" Harry tried to make a joke, hoping to ease the tension. Louis apparently didn't see the humor in it, and merely smirked at him.

"There's sleepin' bags in the cabinets too," he said, a rough edge lacing his voice. Harry felt like he'd been shot down, made to look vacuous, but he didn't say a word. Louis looked a little cheeky and smug as he dragged a sleeping bag out of the said cabinet.

"I can't let you sleep on the floor!" Harry complained.

"Then you can sleep in the sleepin' bag, but we're _not_ sleepin' in the same bed!" Louis snarled.

Everything Harry said from then on drew a snarky retort from Louis. It quickly diminished Harry's happiness at being here alone with him. Louis was so disengaged that he acted as if Harry wasn't even present. As if he wished he was alone. The rain had stopped, and Harry swore Louis must be able to hear his miserable heart beating pitiably.

All the progress Harry had thought they'd made in their friendship seemed to have evaporated. What had he said? What had he done? It didn't take long to figure out the bedmates comment had set Louis off. To Harry it had only been a light-hearted attempt at humor, but it had apparently hit a nerve with Louis.

"Want some dinner? There's plenty of canned food," Louis said coldly as he pulled some beef stew, ravioli, soup, and various others out of a cupboard and plunked them down on the counter.

Well, at least Louis was talking. That was a beginning.

"Cool! SpaghettiOs with franks!" Harry's voice connoted delight, and Louis shook his head. Harry looked to make sure there was more than one can of SpaghettiOs in case Louis wanted the same thing. It wouldn't do to have Louis craving SpaghettiOs and have to watch Harry eating the only can. Harry was suddenly glad Niall wasn't here. He'd no doubt eat everything and leave Louis nothing.

Louis silently picked up a can of Beefaroni, then pulled out a twist can opener, opening both cans and then handing the SpaghettiOs and a bowl to Harry.

"I love Cookie's meals, but this is a nice change," Harry said.

"You actually _like_ this stuff? Well, it's not too bad, I guess. Its food," Louis went to get the lantern sitting on the floor by the fireplace, taking a matchbook from his jeans pocket draped over one of the chairs and lighting it. It would soon be dark outside and they wouldn't be able to see much at all inside the shack. This would give them enough illumination to be able to navigate the shack.

The glow from the lantern was soft and . . . Harry grimaced a little at his first thought . . . _romantic._ Well, it certainly _would_ be romantic—under the right circumstances. But with a grumpy Louis . . . not so much.

After dumping the contents of the cans into their bowls, they ate it with plastic spoons that Louis dug out of another drawer. They had water bottles with them at all times when out on the range, and Louis had removed his from his saddle before sending his horse home. Harry hadn't even thought about it.

They shared the water in Louis' bottle, passing it back and forth as they ate—Louis not seeming to mind it at all, which threw Harry for a loop. Then Louis took the water bottle outside and set it down where the rain could fill it again. It did, in fact, start raining again a few minutes later. The gentle pitter-patter made Harry go all squishy inside. Rain was romantic. Hell, being with Louis was romantic. He wondered if Louis found him attractive? He couldn't tell, what with Louis' bad ass attitude. He was the kind of person that you couldn't tell if he was teasing you or downright harassing you.

After they ate, Harry went outside to "have a wee," making Louis shake his head again.

"There! I'm all set for bed," announced Harry when he came back in, his dark curly halo of hair dripping into his eyes in the most appealing way.

"Good lad," Louis gave him sarcastic praise as he went out of the door himself.

"If you're sleepin' on the floor, then I am too!" Harry spoke up boldly when Louis returned and was preparing to climb into his sleeping bag.

"Rubbish! Get into the bed!" commanded Louis, looking so handsome in his rugged, raw kind of way. It made Harry want to climb into Louis' sleeping bag with him.

Harry, secretly set on getting Louis to sleep in the bed with him, obediently tucked himself in, putting on a dutiful, compliant act . . . for the moment.


	27. Chapter 27

Half an hour later, still very much awake, Louis listened with pleasure to Harry's soft, steady breathing. It sounded sweet, like Harry. Louis couldn't imagine him snoring like a freight train. In the gentle light of the lantern, he could just make out Harry's face, a perfect dark curl resting on his cheek.

Should he sneak into bed with him? No, that wouldn't do. Harry would wake up in the morning and Louis would have no explanation. Louis knew he had been ill tempered and short with Harry for about the millionth time. He must seem dodgy as hell to Harry. Louis hated hurting him, but, damn it, it was his only defense . . .

Harry's breathing suddenly roughened. Not as in a snore, but as if Harry was troubled. Possibly having a bad dream, mused Louis. Soon, Harry's breathing began to sound stricken, strained. No longer even, it came in little gasps, and a faint whine escaped his lips. When he began thrashing, Louis flew into action.

He was on the bed in moments.

"Harry," he began softly. "Harry!" he said a little louder, touching Harry's shoulder. "Wake up mate. It's just a dream."

Harry's eyes slowly opened as if he was expending a great amount of effort. He looked disoriented for a moment, trying to process the fact that he was awake, and then to register the fact that he wasn't at home, in the bunkhouse. Louis read it all on his face.

"Louis . . . Lou . . . what happened?" He'd never called him Lou before, but the Doncaster man's mind was too centered on Harry's well- being to question it.

"Steady. It'll be alright," he encouraged. "Just a bad dream, yeah?"

"Yeah . . . yeah, it was," Harry muttered.

"Wanna tell me about it?"

Harry looked flummoxed for a moment, but quickly recovered.

"Can't really remember. Just that I was . . . scared of something. Something was after me."

"Well, you're fine now," Louis started to withdraw to go back to his sleeping bag on the floor, but Harry gripped his sweat shirt.

"Don't go, Louis. I'm afraid it'll happen again if I go back to sleep. Stay with me."

Louis was stumped, and that didn't happen a whole lot. He was used to taking charge, not being begged to give in like this.

"I don't need to stay with you, Harry," he said rather firmly. "You can handle it—you're a grown man."

The look in Harry's haunted forest green eyes pulled at Louis. He looked so hurt, so overwrought.

 _He couldn't get into bed with him. He just couldn't._

He desired him too much. Not so much sexually as in the fact that he wanted more than anything to hold him, make the fear go away. Take care of him, protect him. Shield him from whatever evil lurked in his dreams.

"Can't you stay with me? Just for tonight?" Harry was pleading softly, and Louis was falling apart, piece by miserable piece.

"You want me to full on sleep with you?"

Harry hesitated, not sure what Louis was getting at.

"I'm a contemptible git. Whyever would you want me to sleep with you?" Louis continued before Harry even had a chance to digest his prior question.

"You're not a contemptible git, and its cold in here," Harry murmured, trying another tactic. "There's no fire."

"It's not _that_ cold. In fact, it's still on the warm side."

 _Well, that hadn't worked. Time for another strategy._

"I'm stressed out," Harry was running out of appeals.

"Oh for God's sake, Styles, I'll fookin' sleep here. But don't _touch_ me!"

Initially, Harry felt a swelling sense of satisfaction that he'd bamboozled Louis into this. But that gratification quickly turned into overwhelming guilt.

Louis, with his back to Harry, pretended to fall asleep, unaware that Harry was wide awake and feeling remorseful. After a short silence, Harry, not able to deal with it any longer, spoke up.

"I hate lying, and I hardly ever do it," he said into the semi-darkness.

Louis sighed as if the weight of the world was pressing down on him and rolled over to face Harry.

"And why, may I ask, are you saying this?"

"Because I lied to you, and I need to confess."

"When did you lie to me?"

"Just a little while ago." Harry gathered all his courage, taking a deep breath, anticipating Louis' anger. "I didn't have a nightmare." Harry squinted his eyes as if he were afraid Louis was going to punch him, although he knew he wouldn't.

" _What?"_ Louis sat straight up in bed. "That was all an act?" He could hardly believe Harry was capable of such a deceitful thing.

"Yeah . . . like, I'm sorry, Louis. But, like, I wanted you to stay with me."

"Then why didn't you just ask?"

"I did."

It dawned on Louis that Harry was right. He _had_ asked. And now he'd had to resort to being sneaky, pretending to have a bad dream to get Louis to sleep with him. It astonished Louis that Harry would go to such lengths to achieve it, but then, Harry was sometimes erratic when he really wanted something. Like the job he'd talked Louis into giving him. And that hadn't turned out bad at all . . .

"Okay, so yeah, you asked. But why do you want me to sleep with you?" Oh boy, Louis was _really_ asking for it this time. He was afraid of what kind of answer he might get. You never knew what might slip out of Harry's mouth. But then, maybe it was best for Harry to talk about it, whatever _it_ was. Louis tried not to scrutinize that too closely. Too much introspection could bring frightening conclusions.

"I wanted your company."

Okay, so now Harry was being disgustingly honest. But, in spite of himself, Louis couldn't hold back a grin as he laid back down, deciding not to argue the point further.

Neither indicated to the other, but they both lay awake, pretending to be asleep for some time. Both were thinking about the other, but not allowing their minds to explore the "if onlys."

Louis woke the next morning with Harry's leg thrown over his own. He was horrified at first, but then realized Harry was fast asleep, and hadn't done it on purpose. Actually it was a little bit amusing and charming in a Harry-like way. He tried not to dwell on the angelic face, the full pink lips, the curls smothering the pillow case.

The cow! He needed to find the cow. But with no horse he was not likely to have much success. Unfortunately, in turning his head to look out of the window, he also found that the rain was still coming down hard and steady. He just hoped the cow had sought shelter so her calf might have a chance.

He could start digging in that pile of firewood outside to try to find dry pieces near the bottom, get some kindling and maybe get a fire started in the fireplace. Harry would be pleased to wake up to warmth. Even though the days were warm, the mornings were chilly. If he had a fire, he could warm coffee up for them. There was instant coffee in the line shack. Better than nothing. Or maybe Harry would prefer tea? He was pretty sure there was some of that too, in addition to powdered cocoa.

This internal debate was bewildering to Louis. Why was he so concerned with what Harry might or might not like as far as a fire, or coffee or tea?

Right then, Louis' phone vibrated from the chair he'd set it down on last night. The volume was turned down, so it didn't wake Harry. Louis extracted himself from underneath Harry's leg carefully and slowly so as not to wake him. He then stepped of out the door, under the overhang so as not to disturb Harry, questioning himself why he even cared.

"Lou, how you guys doin'?" asked Johnny.

"We're fine. I'm surprised we have a signal."

"Yeah, it's breakin' up a bit, but I can hear ya. Still rainin' hard, so I doubt we'll be able to come get ya today," said Johnny.

For some reason, that comment made Louis feel warm inside. "No problem. Enough canned food here for an army, and I'm gonna start a fire."

"Good. We'll come get ya tomorrow, or whenever this downpour stops."

"No hurry. I needed a bit of a holiday anyway."

"Yer overworked, and I've been worryin' about it for a while." What Johnny spoke was the truth. Louis was tired—just plain worn out. So many things on his mind. The ranch paperwork, breeding records, work that needed to be done, deciding what the priorities were, and directing the ranch hands was really wearing him down.

"You've needed a vacation for a while now, Tommo," Johnny assented. "You're working yer fingers to the bone, not to mention yer mind."

"Just a few days of rest will do me wonders," said Louis wistfully, thinking of Harry inside, in bed, and willing the image to go away. The phone started to break up.

"Better go. We're breakin' up bad," said Johnny.

"Yeah, I know. Later." Louis disconnected the call, then stood and watched the rain pouring down steadily, grateful that the majority of the ranch had been flood proofed by his father.

 _His father._

"Lou?" Louis turned to see Harry, sleepy eyes half-lidded, sexy as hell, hair messed up and tumbling forward to nearly obscure his vision, smiling sweetly at him.

I'm gonna try to start a fire," Louis announced rather abruptly. "Just talked to Johnny. We won't be getting' outta here today. And I want to try to find that cow."

"In this rain?" Harry looked bewildered.

"Well, yeah! Gotta at least try," and Louis walked away, heading toward the woodpile. Harry's presence was really disconcerting him, keeping him off balance.

When Louis reached the wood pile, he stepped back to see how many pieces he'd have to remove to get to the bottom of the pile, and slammed right into Harry, who was directly behind him.

" _Damn it!"_ Louis exploded. "What're you doin' out here?"

"I want to help," Harry sounded meek. The rain was spattering all over Harry's face, yet Harry braved it without even blinking.

 _Great. Here was Harry, out in the pouring rain, eager to help, and he was treating him like shit._

Major guilt trip. Louis wished to God he didn't like Harry so much.

"Sorry," Louis said curtly. I'll dig down, and hand the dry pieces to you, yeah?"

"Sure!" Harry perked up, glad to be utilized. Louis reluctantly admired his aspiration to help out.

They found several pieces of timber that were almost completely dry. They each carried a generous armload back inside.

They, themselves, were soaked again. "We got our sweats drenched," a mournful look took over Harry's face.

"No reason to worry. There are a lot more changes of sweats in that cabinet. I told ya, we're always fully stocked on everythin'." Louis indicated the cabinet with a sweep of his arm as he piled the wood up neatly and then looked around for paper to get the fire started. He opened another cabinet and found a stack of Playboy magazines. He half grinned. There was nothing to do out here in the line shack. No telly, no books, not even a radio. So someone had stocked it with Playboy magazines. Little did they know Louis couldn't be less interested in looking at naked women.

So as Harry laid out their dry sweats, Louis started a fire with the magazines. Harry pretended not to notice the girlie magazines, but had thoughts similar to Louis.' There was no intrigue, and he paid them little heed.

They stripped down and dried themselves, jumping into the fresh, dry sweats, and Harry draped their damp shirts and jeans from yesterday along with their wet sweats on the hearth so they would dry.

"That feels good, after being soaking wet," Harry rubbed his hands in front of the fire. For some reason, his wet hair affected Louis again, livening up his senses in a bare moment. The mere sound of Harry's hands rubbing together, the scent of the slightly damp wood, the touch of Harry's sweat top glancing off his own as they stood closely in front of the fire—knowing they were completely alone-all of it enticed Louis, made him yearn for something that was not his to yearn for.

"I heard the last of your conversation on the phone. Sorry—" Harry looked sheepish. "I've heard the others call you Tommo now and then. Why?" Louis remembered he'd had his phone on speaker.

"Nickname. I have lots of 'em. More than I wanna remember."

"Like what? Tell me the others?" Harry turned big expectant green eyes to Louis.

"I'm gonna get pickled tonight," Louis said. "Don't know about you, but there's not much else to do out here, obviously. Maybe then I just might . . . tell you a few of me nicknames."

Harry just gazed at him, not comprehending. "Pickled?" he asked.

In answer, Louis opened a cupboard.

"Shine!"

"Shine?" asked Harry, looking puzzled.

Moonshine. Illegal to make, but legal to drink," Louis said, holding up a couple of mason jars of clear liquid. Harry had heard of moonshine—who hadn't? But he'd never tasted it. He'd heard some stories though that had made the hairs on his forearms stand up. He was dubious, to say the least.

"Wanna join me? Tonight, that is."

"I'm not sure."

Louis began to make chicken noises, even flapping his elbows a little.

Harry laughed. "Okay, I'll join you." At the same time, Harry couldn't help but remember the last time they'd had whiskey together. He shuddered. He wished it was a _bad_ shudder, but instead it was a _good_ shudder.

Louis smiled. "Good lad." Then he slipped outside to retrieve the water bottle he'd left out there to collect the rain water. "Don't wanna have to dig down to the underground irrigation to get some water, and believe me, we'll need lots of it tomorrow after being dehydrated by the moonshine." He then placed several large bowls outside in place of the water bottle so they'd have plenty of water. That is, if it continued to rain. Didn't look like it would stop anytime soon though.

Well, he'd committed himself. Harry knew that now he had to drink the moonshine with Louis, or be hassled about it for some time to come. He'd learned that living on a ranch included regular teasing, taunting and terrorizing if you didn't do what the others did. It was all in good fun, of course. But it was still sometimes unsettling for Harry, who had no brothers, and hadn't perfected the art of being teased gracefully yet, or giving back as good as he got. He still blushed a lot and was at a loss for words on many occasions.

This was Heaven for Louis. Not having to worry about anything. To just brush all responsibilities aside, just relax and do as he pleased. Just as his father had done when he was alive, he pushed himself too much. He hated to admit it, but being alone with only Harry for company was agreeing with him.

Sure, he got snappy and ill- tempered about little things, but Harry was a good sport and didn't seem to mind too much.

They'd shared a can of corned beef and coffee for breakfast this morning since neither one was particularly hungry, but now what would they do with the rest of the day? Around noon Harry had spied a loaf of bread that was only a little stale, and a jar of unopened peanut butter in a cupboard. He'd slapped some peanut butter on a couple of slices—one for him and one for Louis, and was getting ready to carry one to Louis when it fell out of his hand and landed upside down on the floor with a distinct slapping sound. Louis' head had jerked up, and they both stared down at it, then back up again at each other. Harry giggled, with Louis following his example because he just couldn't help it, sounding like something between a dolphin and a hyena.

Harry was really liking this unburdened side of Louis. The man had suppressed himself for too long—except on rare occasions, and Harry resolved to talk to him about it later without, of course, offending him. This Louis was a Louis he didn't get the pleasure of experiencing with any frequency. He was acting less like a forty year old, and more like the twenty-five year old he really was, and Harry was digging it.

A little later, "Lou, wanna put our damp sweats back on and go look for that cow? The rain is lightening up a little."

"Harry . . . " Louis sighed, his exasperation showing through. "We put on those sweats that have only been drying for a couple hours, and we'll get pneumonia for sure! Then go out in the rain on top of it?" he peered at Harry in disbelief.

"I guess you're right. But I'm gonna go out under the overhang and look around." As Harry slipped outside, Louis babied the fire a little bit. It was coming along nicely, as almost all the wood they'd brought in was nearly dry.

"Louis! Come here, quick!" Harry yelled from outside.

Instant panic seized Louis, all reason left him, and he had no idea why. All he could think of was something terrible had happened to Harry. He ran to the door so quickly in his stocking feet that he slipped and slid for the final two feet.

"There's a cow and calf over there!" Harry was jumping up and down like a little kid in his exuberance.

 _There were lot of cows and calves out there,_ Louis wanted to growl. But nonetheless, he squinted, trying to focus to where Harry was pointing. He let out a long, low whistle.

"Harry, by God, I think it's her! In fact, it _is_ her! She has a really unusual white spot off-center on her forehead—look!"

"Yeah, I see it!" exclaimed an ecstatic Harry.

"And you're right—there's the calf! Only a few hours old!" The cow and calf were safe and dry under a huge rock overhang, and the calf was up on its feet, standing close to its mother, looking around curiously at this new world outside of the womb.

Louis pounded Harry on the back. "Good work, mate! All the more reason to celebrate tonight!"

After an afternoon of talking and getting to know each other on a more personal level than ever before, Harry was picking up bits and pieces of Louis' younger life, what it had been like to become owner of this ranch and how he'd handled it at such a young age when his father had died. More and more, Harry was absorbing the fact that Louis had too much on his shoulders for his age. There were ghosts of hints at every turn, and although Louis didn't spell out a lot of things, Harry knew there was much that was being left unsaid. Louis was carefully avoiding major stepping stones that Harry would have liked to travel over to get to the bottom of his boss' life story. He had a feeling there were a lot of worms and unpleasant things under those stepping stones. He also felt strongly that much of it had to do with how defensive and edgy Louis was.

They talked of books they'd read, childhood friends, favorite foods to favorite colors, to favorite textures. Louis had an affinity for the feel of cotton—for Harry it was extra smooth things, such as silk and velvet. Louis got a kick out of that, since Harry did have a certain amount of feminine characteristics. Not obvious ones to the casual observer, but really rather subtle and only showing up rarely. Louis didn't mention this, as mentioning Harry's sometimes slightly effeminate ways might strike the wrong chord. Personally, he found it endearing, in the same way he viewed Harry's fear of heights and thunderstorms.

A dinner of canned beef stew for Louis and dark chicken meat for Harry, also from a can, along with some packaged ramen noodles that they added water to and heated near the fire and shared, caused their stomachs to feel a little more sated than their previous cold meals.

"There's also canned sardines, tuna, capers and oysters in the cupboard anytime you get hungry," offered Louis. "It's more than you and I could eat in a month, so don't be shy. No reason to go hungry. Also . . . " he raised his eyebrows playfully, "Some candy bars that I had in me saddle bag."

"What? I didn't see you get that stuff outta your saddle bag! I only saw your water bottle and a pencil and paper."

"I hid the candy in me shirt pockets and jeans when your head was turned."

"And in the pouring rain too," Harry said reverently to himself.

"But you don't normally eat many candy bars," Harry said, remembering he'd only witnessed it maybe three times in the months he'd been employed here.

"Oh, but _you_ do." The grin on Louis' face was positively wicked as he tossed a candy bar Harry's way.

Harry hated how much he liked that statement along with the sexy, teasing expression on Louis' face. If Louis only knew what it was doing to him. . .

"It'll be nice to have a taste of moonshine again tonight," Louis plastered a wholesome look on his face that wasn't altogether convincing, and Harry felt a strange thrill whip through him.


	28. Chapter 28

"Okay, so what are your other nicknames?" Harry asked as they sat on the rug in front of the fireplace, Indian style with Louis holding a jar of moonshine.

"You _would_ remember that," half-complained Louis. "There's too many—"

"You promised!"

Louis took a swig of the moonshine and handed the mason jar to Harry.

"The Tommo, as you know. Then there's also Hedgehog, Swagmaster of Doncaster, Sassamaster of Doncaster, Pepito, Luigi, Bean and . . . and Sunshine, which is often used sarcastically."

"Wow, all of those? Any more?"

"Besides Little Shit, just one, but I'm not tellin' you that one."

"Little shit?" Harry clutched his stomach to try to stem the cramp of giggles. "Tell me the last one! Come on! You promised!"

"I'd have to get a _lot_ more moonshine into me to tell you _that_ one. And I'm not gettin' plastered tonight. I don't feel like spendin' tomorrow throwin' up."

Well, he would have to be patient, Harry supposed.

"Why do we use one jar instead of pouring it into glasses?" He asked Louis of the moonshine a few minutes later.

Did the lad ever run out of questions? "It's an old tradition. With moonshine, one jar is passed around, no matter how many people are present. Besides, it splatters all over if you try to pour it into a glass."

"But why is it put into mason jars to begin with, if you can't pour out of it?" Harry's mind was ever-inquiring.

Louis looked a little exasperated. "Harry, I really don't know. It's just . . . just the way it's always been done, I guess. You're as bad as Niall with your endless questions." But Louis didn't seem at all perturbed. His manner was not strained, but very easy. Harry wished he could be like this all of the time.

Harry nodded, bewildered how such a tradition had even come about, but satisfied with Louis' explanation. But . . . the practice of passing the jar back and forth between the two of them did seem a bit . . . _intimate_ to him.

A little later, the moonshine warming his veins, Harry turned to Louis. "You know, you need your load lightened."

Louis grinned. "You've already lightened it, Harry," was his immediate response. This knocked the wind out of Harry for a moment.

"How so?"

"Just bein' here with me. Keepin' me company, bein' yourself."

Harry savored those words for a couple of minutes, running them over and over in his mind.

"Does that mean you don't think I'm hopelessly mental?"

"Styles, you may be a little weird at times, but I like you. You've got a lot on the ball. You're far from mental or compromised in any way."

Harry tried to keep the smile from forming, but he wasn't successful. He didn't know it, but his dimples teased Louis in the worst way.

"I'm glad you like me, Lou. Until now, I wasn't completely sure."

"I'm a straight shooter, Harry. You've known that from the start. Why would I change that now? More importantly though, I'd like to know what you think about me." Louis would have never asked Harry that question if he wasn't just a little buzzed.

Harry rested his chin in his hand, his elbow propped on his knee, still sitting Indian style.

"That's a loaded question!" he exclaimed, causing them both to laugh. He gazed into the flames. They both knew how complicated Louis was, and it would take many words for Harry to describe how he felt about Louis—more than he was comfortable with. So he strove to compress it into a synopsis.

"I always know where I stand with you, obviously—especially if you're not happy. You're a good boss, you work as hard as the rest of us. You're driven. You pay me more than I think I'm worth, and you make me feel important." Harry was blushing furiously by now.

Louis looked pleasantly surprised. "I know I need to hand out more praise, but I'm workin' on it," he contributed. He was a little embarrassed himself, actually. "So, enlighten me, Harry. Think you'll stick 'round a while?" For some reason, Louis' heart picked up its pace as he awaited Harry's answer. He was a little too eager to hear what Harry might say.

Harry looked dazed, perplexed and not quite on top of the conversation.

" _What? Stick 'round?_ You know how much I love this job, right?"

"You're sincere if nothing else. I'd hate to lose you . . . as an employee I mean," Louis quickly added.

"I'm not goin' anywhere—unless you fire me, yeah?"

"That's what I wanted to hear. It's good to have a bit of a laugh with you and work with you, but you're great for just sittin' 'round and bein' mellow too."

Harry knew Louis was feeling comfortable and mildly euphoric from the alcohol, much as he had the night they'd walked and talked for hours at the barn dance.

By the second jar of moonshine Harry was smiling constantly and lazily, the dimples beckoning until Louis wanted to wipe them off his face. Not in a mean way, but he was desperate to break free of their hold on him. It actually made him weak.

Louis had a bigger problem though. He was starting to feel a little _too_ good, and he was afraid it would cause him to get careless, compelling him to want to ask Harry questions he knew he shouldn't ask. But the moonshine's disturbing influence was proving hard to get out from under. He was feeling fifty times more curious about Harry than usual.

By now they were both lying on their backs on the rug in front of the fire, feeling not a care in the world.

"So. . ." he began as casually as his blissful state allowed. ":How many girlfriends have you had, Harry?"

It was as if the clock had stopped. All movement ceased. Harry was feeling fine one moment, and then frozen with alarm the next.

"Um, er . . . like, why are you asking me that?" was all Harry was capable of articulating.

" I . . . I'm not sure," Louis, now caught in his own web, didn't know how to work his way out of it. He'd never, ever seen Harry this embarrassed. And he'd seen him embarrassed plenty of times. Even in the uneven, flickering light of the fire, Harry's face and neck were flushed a bright cherry color.

"I've never been good with girls," Harry started out slowly, cautiously. "I mean, what I mean is, I didn't have much luck. Well really . . . no luck at all."

Louis considered this. The lad was breathtakingly handsome, adorably cute, packed with personality, had a great sense of humor, was gentle as a lamb, and he'd had no luck with girls? Or was it that Harry _didn't want_ to have luck with girls? Remembering their half-ass barn dance conversation, Louis was about as sure as he could be that he knew what Harry was trying to say. He wanted to discuss it again—explore Harry's feelings, try to figure out if Harry was completely gay, or possibly bi.

"Why? I'd think you'd have to fight 'em off with a stick."

Harry laughed. "They flirt and stuff . . . but, I must be . . . doin' sommat wrong."

"Why do you say that?" Louis lit up a cigarette, feeling his nerves becoming fragile, his courage dwindling.

"Well, we virtually already had this talk," Harry mumbled. "I didn't feel a . . . need to be with girls, you know?"

"A need?" Here it was happening again. Louis was making Harry confess, inch by inch. Why did he find joy in that? Harry thought it rather cruel and inhumane.

"I didn't . . . want to be with them. Not at all." Harry was sure he was going to lose it completely. His boss had just made him divulge that he had no interest at all in females. That he was full on gay.

Now that Harry had so blatantly, without actually saying the words, blurted it out, Louis seemed at loose ends. He didn't know what to say. He fidgeted and looked out of sorts.

Well, Louis might not like it, but didn't he have just as much right to ask Louis the same question? Harry wasn't certain if it was proper, but the moonshine had also had an effect on him, and he decided that what was good for the goose . . .

"How many girlfriends have _you_ had, Lou?" Harry was rather proud himself. He never thought he'd find himself this position—asking Louis something that seemed so out of line, so discourteous.

And it confounded Louis, alright. He hadn't expected the question from Harry. He was nonplussed, but he knew he had no reason to complain, or chastise Harry in any way. They were on equal footing here, in the line shack. That's how he saw it. Just two guys drinking moonshine and shooting the shit. Only now it was turning into a heart-to-heart. It was Louis' own fault, and he knew it.

"I guess I asked for this, yeah?" he flicked the long ash on the tip of his cigarette into the ashtray he'd gotten from the mantel earlier. "Like you alluded to a minute ago, I more or less revealed me . . . _situation_ in an earlier conversation with you. I'm sure you remember it well."

Harry nodded. "I do."

"Then why are you askin' me sommat you already know?" Louis' face was burning up with heat and he knew Harry could see it.

"I could ask you the same thing, you know," Harry reminded him.

Louis looked sheepish, shrugging his shoulders.

But you're not answerin' me question. We never did say anything _directly,_ in detail."

"But we both knew . . . what the other was sayin'."

"Yeah. But you asked me about girlfriends. Now I'm asking _you_."

"Harry, there are reasons I don't talk about . . . that. Me father was . . . all man. Very macho. Old-fashioned. And one thing he really _hated_ was . . . "

He wasn't able to finish. Okay, so he'd stalled out. Louis wasn't able to spit out what he wanted to share with Harry. But Harry probably knew the gist of it anyway, so what did it matter?

"Was?" Harry was urging him to continue.

"Anyone that wasn't, um, _normal."_ There was no way Louis was going to say the word "gay," so Harry would have to be content with what little he _could_ say about the subject.

Luckily, Harry, who was anything but dumb, instinctually picked up on the reason for Louis' hesitation.

Undaunted, Harry proceeded with the conversation, slyly ignoring the fact that Louis was flustered and grasping for words that wouldn't come. "That must have been tough."

Harry was learning a lot about Louis from this halting conversation. Louis had some serious hang-ups, and it looked like a lot of it, if not all of it, traced back to his father. It explained why he was so defensive, and why he recoiled from certain subjects, always ready to attack should the conversation get too personal.

Harry knew he shouldn't be stepping over the line like this. He was being intrepid—much too much so. It could potentially damage the friendship they were trying to build.

"Yeah," said Louis simply, dropping the subject like it was vile and must be done away with.

"What's normal anyway?" Harry muttered to himself.

"Good point. I'll tell ya one thing though. I'd gladly spend a fortnight here, with you." Harry was caught so off-guard by Louis' words that he was taken aback, and his breath caught sharply. He realized his jaw was hanging open, and he briskly closed it. He was really confused now. Louis seemed to be drawing back, yet encouraging Harry to get closer at the same time.

"You've got me . . . proper baffled now," Harry said quietly, almost in a whisper, as if that way, he could somehow coax Louis to enlarge on what he'd just said. Softer voice, louder secrets.

"I know Harry, I know. You'll get it if you just use some quiet introspection for a while. You see, reality ruined me life."

 _The reality of his childhood and the impact it had had on him._

 _What Louis was trying to tell him could only be one thing—his father had set such an extreme example of what a "man" should be that Louis could not move past it._

Harry felt dejected. It wasn't his place to demand that Louis pour out his soul to him. It was selfish of him to even consider Louis might contemplate confiding in him. Making himself vulnerable, disclosing his deepest, darkest consternation.

And Harry knew he had no right to complicate Louis' life. The Doncaster chap had too much to deal with as it was. He didn't need a lovesick, drooling Harry shadowing his footsteps and making life even more fucked up than it already was for him. Harry clearly needed to step back and take Louis' feelings into serious consideration instead of only thinking of himself and his desires.

"I haven't forgotten what you told me. I'm still aware you . . . fancy me . . . that is, if you still do. And I do appreciate your honesty. But too much is at stake, and I can't disappoint me father in his grave."

Harry pondered this, trying to hide the tremors within him from Louis.

"You really worry about that, don't you?" Harry took a chance saying this because it was pretty clear by now how sensitive Louis was about it.

"Of course I do! He was me father, and I have all the respect I possibly can for him."

"Sounds like he was a great man."

"He was, and I look up to him. Still do, even though he's gone."

Harry was hard put to think of what else to say.

"But can't you still respect and look up to him, and be yourself too?"

That was the straw that broke the camel's back. Louis pushed himself up from the rug, handing the mason jar over to Harry.

"You don't understand, obviously," he said snidely.

"You're a good person!" Harry dissented. "You think you're no good if you're not exactly like your father?"

"We're not discussin' this any further," Louis' voice had suddenly converted back to the boss' voice.

 _He was Harry's boss, after all._ Harry knew he'd do well to remember it.

"I'm sorry, Lou. Can we talk about sommat else?"

"No. Well done, lad. Well done. You've ruined me evening."

"I'm sorry," Harry said again.

"Dammit to hell!" Louis suddenly blew up. "I hate it when you make me feel so guilty. Sayin' you're sorry, bein' so polite. You make me feel like a complete tosser."

"I don't mean to."

Silence crept in and the uneasiness slipped right back into place.

 _Why did this keep happening? Why did he always, sooner or later, end up making Louis angry?_

Just when it felt like they were getting closer, and creating a real bond, Harry had to go and blow it again.

The rain was coming down hard now, but there was no electrical storm. So it would be safe to go outside. The air was warmer now, and Harry had a sudden inspiration.

"I'm goin' outside to take a shower," he said simply, beginning to remove his sweats.

"You're _what_?" Is this a joke?"

"No. I feel funky. Me hair needs washin' too."

"I want a shower too, but I'm not goin' outside in the rain!"

"Suit yourself," Harry then marched to the cupboard where he'd seen hand soap and shampoo earlier.

Louis was positive Harry wasn't really going to do this. It was probably a distraction tactic so Louis would forget his indignation. But once Harry was naked and actually stepping out of the door, Louis rushed over and peered out of the window to watch. And indeed, Harry _was_ taking a shower—and what a sight it was!

Standing there butt naked, his head thrown back, his long, dark hair streaming down his back with the rain cascading through it as he soaped up, was wet dream material. The light from the lantern cast a soft yellowish hue on Harry's lithe body, now nearly as muscled as Louis' own, putting him in a semi-spotlight in the late afternoon dusk. It was almost unbearable to watch. When Harry began to lather up his hair, Louis, realizing he probably didn't smell like roses himself, cursed out loud and tore his sweats away from his body, slamming out the door after Harry.

The smile that lit Harry's face when he saw a naked Louis was the kind of reward Louis didn't get often. It was so fetching . . . and if the cold rain hadn't made him gasp, Harry's smile surely would have.

Before he knew it, Louis was literally laughing in the rain, amused at Harry's antics. Harry followed his example; delighted that his idea had actually worked. He'd wanted Louis to stop stressing, because, for the most part, that seemed to be all the poor guy ever did. He'd wanted to bring out Louis' playful side.

Louis had never met anyone as fun as Harry was, and he didn't know quite how to handle it—except to keep laughing.

It was coming down in buckets, relentlessly, and the rain against Louis' skin was shockingly refreshing. Louis still couldn't stop gazing at Harry's beautiful body, his long legs and torso, his big hands, and most importantly, the lad's attitude-his playful carelessness in even dreaming up this idea in the first place. Of all Harry's attributes, his attitude toward life was what made him the most attractive of all.

Harry handed the soap and shampoo to Louis, who began to soap and lather up. It wasn't so cold once you started washing because you were staying busy.

A few minutes later they were squeaky clean, considering the rain was torrential and it rinsed them very quickly. They sprinted back into the line shack to towel off and don fresh sweats.

"We're not funky anymore," announced Harry proudly, with a dimpled smile, fluffing his hair with the towel, and making a certain part of Louis' body respond. Thank God for the cold rain, as Louis might have embarrassed himself royally while watching Harry wash himself out there.

"Yeah, that was sick. Got to admit it was a rather brilliant idea," Louis responded. "Usually we just use a bucket out here to catch the rain to take a sponge bath. Sorry, I might have looked like I was creepin' on you out there," Louis' sheepish grin warmed Harry along with the fire he stood in front of. Little did he know he was still providing quite a show for Louis' appreciative eyes.

"Really? I saw you lookin,' but I figured you just thought I was daft for runnin' out in the rain."

"You're that too. But a very pleasant kind of daft."

Harry looked pleased. _Mission accomplished!_

"Sorry 'bout the cluster fuck I got us into before we went outside," Louis said quietly. "I'm the one that's fucked up, not you."

Harry didn't know what to say, other than to offer solace. "I don't see you that way. And your father didn't mean any harm. In fact, I think he did a right fine job raisin' you. It's just that he went a little overboard with how rigid he was," Harry shrugged. "Like, he was only human, you know."

Louis clammed up again, going to the window. To ruminate, Harry supposed. Harry sat on one of the chairs in front of the fire, drawing comfort from its warmth.

"Oi! I see the cow and calf movin' toward the ranch," Louis said from his post in front of the window. The rain's not as heavy, and I guess she decided it's safe to take her baby in. I need to call Johnny if I can get a signal."

Harry cheered, almost coaxing a smile from Louis again. Damned if the lad wasn't going to worm his way into his heart if Louis didn't remain on guard every waking moment.

Louis placed the call and was able to get through, but only long enough to let Johnny know the cow had had her calf, it appeared to be healthy, and that the two were heading back to the ranch. Johnny assured Louis he would put them into a stall at least until the rain stopped. The signal almost completely gone, Louis hung up.

"Um . . . I'm sorry I called you lad a while ago. I forgot again."

"That's alright. You only seem to do it when you're angry."

"Yeah. Controlling meself isn't one of me virtues."

 _No control._

This put all kinds of unwanted and unwelcome thoughts into Harry's head. He vanquished them, giving himself a silent, inner dressing down. He didn't know a single thing about intimacy anyway. All he knew was he got a weird, impossible to ignore feeling in his tummy, all the way down to his crotch, and it was only when Louis did or said something that got him to thinking, wondering . . . Not one other person he'd ever met had had that kind of influence on him.

He might as well go for broke.

"Um, you never, like, answered me question," he ventured to say with much reserve.

"Okay, so I can't get you off track, you bloody bloodhound," was Louis' answer.

Louis sighed deeply, then said, "Define girlfriend."


	29. Chapter 29

_Define girlfriend._

Okay, Louis had only responded to his question but Harry felt his heart sinking. He should never have expected it, but he realized suddenly that he'd _hoped_ Louis, like himself, hadn't _had_ any girlfriends. That, however was an impossibility with a man like Louis. He was so dynamic, so attractive in both looks and personality (when he was in a good mood, that was) that the likelihood of him not having had any girlfriends was unthinkable.

Now Harry wished he hadn't asked the question. If only he could retract it! It was better to remain in the dark than to hear something he would rather not hear. Problem was, he was stuck now, since Louis was looking at him, waiting, and there were no other options, so Harry sucked it up and tried to _define girlfriend_ for Louis.

"Um . . . well, like . . . someone you date?" Harry stammered.

"Didn't proper _date_ anyone," was Louis' answer. "Just . .. had some fun, you know?"

Oh God. Just as he'd thought. Harry had asked for it. Well, Harry couldn't expect Louis _not_ to have had sex either. Not a twenty-five year old man who was worldly and a ranch owner. But now at least he had his answer about Louis' sexuality. He was bi.

Louis spoke up quickly. "But, you know, maybe I just did it to prove sommat to meself."

Harry's ears perked up. He struggled to find a response.

"You mean you had sex when you didn't want to?"

Louis absently rubbed the towel at his hair, his eyes darted around for a moment, as if searching for a way out of this confession, and then sighed and nodded slightly. "But . . . like I told you in the past, I wasn't feelin' it."

So, sounded like Louis had forced himself to sleep with girls to try to prove to himself that he wasn't gay! It was elementary. There was no other explanation. And it made Harry's heart lurch with hope.

Louis was uncomfortable in the extreme with the subject, and quite reluctantly dragged the other chair over to settle in front of the fire. Not too close to Harry though.

 _There was something special about Harry that pulled him to the lad, but acknowledging that made him anxious, even though the thought of being in bed with Harry was tantalizing. Oh, he was so_ _ **confused!**_

This talk of women, and not being attracted to them, yet still bedding them was making things even more convoluted. Well really, it wasn't complex at all, not to Louis. But he had to keep in mind that he probably wasn't making things transparent enough for Harry. He still shied away from the very idea of explaining, shuddering in the process. Weren't things pretty obvious? But he couldn't see things from Harry's point of view.

Hell with it all. Louis wanted to get into bed. And he wanted Harry with him.

So instead of making that grave mistake and mentioning bedtime, embarrassing the shit out of himself, Louis reverted back to an old high school trick. He pulled a face. He figured it would at least save him the humiliation of the look of unfettered shock on Harry's face when he suggested they go to bed.

Louis bugged his eyes and made them cross, then he pulled his mouth into one long, straight line. Harry had never seen anyone pull a face quite like that one before. He sputtered, choked, then gasped to get air into his lungs.

"Swallowed the wrong way, yeah? asked Louis.

"Well yeah. Never saw you do that before, and it's really, really funny."

"I save it for special occasions."

"This is a special occasion?"

Louis smiled. "As a matter of fact, it is. Where's that damn moonshine?"

"I dunno. I put it on the mantel the last I remember." Harry didn't even look up at the mantel. He was too fascinated with Louis and his comical ways that he hadn't even known the man possessed until now. Louis had a silly side. Interesting.

Louis went over to the mantel, took a deep swallow and shoved the jar at Harry.

"Not used to that stuff. Never had it before," Harry drew back slightly, not accepting the jar.

"Is your head spinnin'?" asked Louis.

"No."

"Good then. No more moonshine and you'll be fine." Louis screwed the lid back on the jar and shoved it back in the cupboard with all the other mason jars.

Sneaking a quick glance at his watch, Louis saw it wasn't even nine o'clock yet. So he decided to kill time by asking Harry more questions.

"Called your mum lately?"

Harry looked a smidge guilty. "Yesterday. Didn't call her today. And it's five o'clock in the mornin' there now."

Louis nodded.

"You used me toothbrush too," Louis accused, his voice laced with badly concealed mirth.

The heat suffused Harry's cheeks for the one hundred thousandth time since they'd been here. "Well, I saw it there, on the shelf," and he indicated the item of interest with a jerk of his head. "I couldn't find another one, so . . . "

"That's a rather personal item to _borrow._ Any when did you do it? When I was stackin' the firewood?"

"Either that or when you were havin' a wee," Harry explained.

"And that doesn't bother you?" Louis was really grilling him, and Harry knew Louis had to know how awkward it made him feel.

"Not really. I've seen your . . . hygiene habits. I wasn't worried about it. I'm sorry. I didn't ask permission because . . . I can't stand goin' without brushin' me teeth, and I was afraid you'd think I was weird."

Apparently, it didn't bother Louis either because he abruptly changed subjects.

"Tell me about your family."

"I have lots of cousins, but just one sister that's quite a bit older than me. That's why I was so . . . sheltered. I was the baby."

So this explained a lot. How unworldly Harry was, how hesitant he was, how he lacked confidence, how he often wasn't sure how to respond to sarcasm or simple teasing.

"And you . . . " started Harry, but then thought better of it.

Louis took over, knowing Harry's thoughts instinctively—that the lad wanted to know more about him too. "I had to be the man of the house. Me mum passed away when I was only three. I hardly remember anythin' about her. And when me dad passed, I _really_ had to man up. But we were talkin' about you. How did you get so shy? Weren't you sociable in school?"

"Not too much, no. I was quiet and didn't care about popularity. And me mum protected me so much that I never learned social skills to the extent that I should have. Lookin' the way I do, I sometimes got teased a little." Harry greatly downplayed that part. The girls had always liked him, and the boys had felt threatened by him because of it, so in turn they had teased him and called him girly out of envy. Harry hadn't known the boys were envious, thinking they simply disliked him, so he'd felt ostracized and isolated.

"Jealous," said Louis, as if to himself. Harry, as usual, blushed. He remembered how Louis had told him at the barn dance about guys being jealous of his looks. He wasn't sure if he believed that though.

"I'd remember those green eyes anywhere," Louis added, his voice suddenly taking on a quieter, silken quality.

Harry was bewildered. Why was Louis bringing up his eyes?

"Only saw 'em once before, but I didn't forget 'em," Louis concluded.

"What? I don't understand," Harry said.

"I'll let you in on a little secret. I _do_ remember you at the Huck Finn Jubilee. I spilled me drink, and looked up, and all I saw were your green eyes."

Harry was chuffed. Louis _did_ remember him! "So why didn't you tell me when I mentioned I saw you there?" he asked.

Louis shrugged. "Didn't want to let you think I thought you were anythin' special."

Hmmm . . . well, Harry did appreciate his honesty. "Well, I remembered your _blue_ eyes too. They're imprinted on me retinas."

Louis' turn to blush.

"Gosh," said Louis casually, a few minutes later. "I'm gettin' sleepy. Must be the moonshine." He wasn't feeling drunk, just tipsy enough to have the balls to mention the possibility of an upcoming bedtime.

Harry paused, his eyes showing Louis his uncertainty. "Me too," he said weakly.

"Reckon we hit the hay soon, yeah?" asked Louis, not meaning to sound cryptic, but figuring it must sound that way to Harry's ears.

"Sure."

Louis solved the awkward moment by leaping onto the bed, and sprawling on the top of the blankets instead of crawling under the sheets. _On_ the bed instead of _in_ it. Somehow, it seemed less suggestive.

Harry followed his example, settling down beside him, both of them staring at the ceiling, the lantern casting ghostly shadows on their faces, but Harry saw it as anything but spooky. To him, it was romantic. Mysterious, full of the unknown.

"Want a fire?" asked Louis.

"Not unless you do. Not cold enough," Harry answered. "You reckon I'm dodgy?" Harry blurted out. Louis turned a curious face to him. Harry explained, "I mean, I show up out of nowhere, pleadin' for a job. Do you believe what I've told you, or are you still suspicious of me?"

"If I was suspicious of you, I wouldn't be tellin' you how I was enjoyin' me time here with you."

That statement caused a lovely feeling to enfold Harry. And he knew it wasn't just the moonshine.

I had what I called a _restless yearning,"_ Harry admitted. "I wanted to just get in me Rover and go . . . to some place where there were wide open spaces and horses." He paused. "And cowboys, or so me friend Audrey accused me of," he added, feeling the now too familiar rush of heat spread up his neck and into his cheeks.

"Oh, so your friend Audrey knows . .. about . . . that?" Louis asked uneasily.

"Yeah, and like, she's the only one who knows, man. 'Cept for you now too, of course."

"Well, only one who knows about me is you. Directly, that is. I suspect Johnny has a hunch, but of course, I never told him."

Harry was getting all kinds of compliments tonight, and he felt so much less unsure of himself.

 _Louis had chosen him to tell his secret to._

Harry couldn't stop looking at Louis' moon-lit blue eyes that didn't avoid his as often anymore. He could almost feel Louis thawing out. The ice was melting, Louis seemed to be warming to him.

"And with one and a quarter of a mason jar of moonshine between the two of us, are you relaxed?" asked Louis.

Harry kept his eyes fastened on the Doncaster man's own eyes. "Yes, but . . . but I'm worried about you," Harry confessed, nothing but brutal honesty radiating from his evergreen eyes.

"How is that?"

"I'm afraid you'll hit the wall."

Louis was stunned, and his gasp gave testimony to it.

"Your work," clarified Harry.

"I know . . . I knew what you meant," Louis assured him. So Harry wasn't as oblivious to things as Louis once thought. His hunch had been right that Harry was not simple, but a thinker. "Me too, sometimes. I'm strung tight all the time. Bein' here, talkin' to you, lettin' loose of that tight hold on meself . .. is helpin' me."

Harry had never felt so honored. To have an important, influential man such as Louis Tomlinson saying that _he_ , Harry Styles, had a calming effect on him was gratifying.

"I'm glad!" Harry's genuine smile told Louis he told the truth. Although, Louis couldn't imagine Harry telling a lie unless it was to spare someone's feelings.

"Was it hard—takin' over when your dad died?"

Louis laughed, but it had a bitter quality to it. "I did what I had to do. Johnny was a massive help, but I still had to make major decisions on me own. At only twenty years of age. This is why I have trouble loosenin' up. I'm afraid I'll fuck up, and lose me tight grip on meself, won't live up to me dad's expectations. Sorry . . . I didn't mean to unload on you." Louis' eyes were soft. "You don't need to be hearin' me troubles."

"No, no . . . I don't mind at all." Harry wished he could think of something else to say to allay Louis' concerns, but he found his thoughts were frozen. If only Louis knew how privileged he felt that he was was confiding in him.

Harry didn't pursue the subject, as he already had earlier, and he didn't want to work Louis into a lather again. The man was sensitive about his father—what guy wasn't? So Harry didn't want to aggravate him.

He decided on another tactic. "Sometimes though, every once in a while, you seem relaxed and content. Like that night at the barn dance, and . . . now." Harry acknowledged inwardly what he'd just said. And Louis confirmed it a moment later.

"I _do_ feel relaxed and calm now and then. It depends on the company. It usually happens only with me mum and occasionally with Johnny . . . and surprisingly, with you."

The euphoria of Louis' comment raised Harry's hopes that Louis wouldn't regret getting stranded in the line shack with him. His constant fear of doing or saying the wrong thing apparently weren't well grounded. Louis liked his company and was openly admitting it.

"You're mild mannered and you put me at ease," Louis added. "The moonshine mellowed me a bit, but it was mostly you."

"Thank you," Harry said, feeling like he sounded lame, but literally at a loss for words.

Each alone with his own thoughts, they didn't talk for a while. When Louis spoke up again, Harry was jarred. Especially by what Louis had to say.

"Did you ever have a . . . _relationship_ with any of the girls you tried to date?"

Harry went cold and rigid. He knew what Louis was getting at. Louis wanted to know if Harry had ever slept with a girl.

Harry fought down the urge to retreat. "Ah . . . no. I didn't."

Louis, wide eyed, gawked at Harry without meaning to, but he just couldn't stop himself.

"You mean you're . . . "

Harry began to sweat, his heart pounded, and he shrunk back from the fear that Louis would not approve of the truth. He gasped for breath, feeling like he was going to start crying, or slamming his fist into the wall, or pleading with Louis not to think of him as lame or awkward.

 _Goofy. That's what he was._

But Louis' eyes had lost their hard edge some time ago, patience now predominating. His voice sounded a little raspy as he said the words out loud.

"Harry, you're a . . . virgin?"

Harry shrugged, trying to look nonchalant, as if it didn't matter, and failing miserably. "Yeah, probably the world's oldest too," He finally muttered.

But Louis didn't show pity; he also didn't show disgust, and he didn't laugh at him. Instead he challenged Harry.

"Why are you actin' so ashamed?" he demanded.

"Because it's not . .. normal."

"And what is normal?" Louis grinned, reminding Harry of the time Harry had used that phrase on himself.

 _Was this just a crush Harry had?_ He wished he could talk to Louis about it without embarrassment. Now that Louis knew his biggest secret, he felt like everything should come out. He had, however, already admitted to Louis that he fancied him. So really, Louis knew a lot more about him than he knew about Louis. It didn't seem right. It gave Louis an unfair advantage.

Louis tried to buffer the situation.

"I think it's refreshin.' It shows you respect your body and don't make rash decisions."

"Except comin' to Texas and leavin' me whole life behind on a whim." That shut Louis up for a moment.

"You're comin' outta your shell, becomin' independent. I respect you for bein' so . . . _choosy."_

"Choosy? But don't you see? I didn't _want_ a girl."

Louis nodded. "But you wouldn't be slutty with guys either. It's just not you," he said with conviction.

He was right.

"And I'm flattered that . . . you like me," Louis left it at that, shifting a bit on the bed. Or was that a squirm?

Harry wasn't sure what to make of it. There had been no "but" at the end of the sentence. Louis had left the conversation wide open, and Harry wasn't so sure he was comfortable with that. They shouldn't be in bed together when Harry was _dying_ to touch Louis, stroke his hair, even just hold his hand. He was craving this Donny chap who felt he had to put on a rugged act. Made not a lick of sense to Harry, because Louis knew that Harry was aware of his sexuality. So what was he trying to prove?

He didn't want Harry—that was it. Maybe the "almost kiss" had been Louis testing himself. In any case, Louis was not open to any kind of gay relationship, and he'd made that clear. Harry had to keep warning himself internally of that fact. Reminding himself to sidestep constantly, because if he metaphorically stepped on Louis' toes with any comment Louis didn't like, the rancher was sure to put him in his place with no mercy.

Louis continued to talk, softly, with no trace of the bossiness he so often exhibited.

"It makes me feel good that you like me. But . . . we're both men—cowboys, and we work on a ranch with other cowboys. It's a rough, tough life. I am the example setter here, bein' owner of the ranch."

"I know—you've already explained that to me," Harry was deflated and practically defeated. Why did Louis have to keep bringing that up? They had been having a nice, revealing conversation that seemed to have a calming effect on Louis, and then he had to go and pipe up with his familiar and unwelcome lecture about proper conduct again.

Harry flung his body away from Louis' and scooted toward the edge of the bed.

"Oi, where you goin'?" Louis' voice was wary.

Harry didn't know where he stood with this man. Why had Louis suggested it was bedtime? Why did he look into Harry's eyes with undisguised affection? Harry had had about enough of this.

"Away from you," Harry answered his inquiry rather brusquely.

Louis grabbed Harry's hair and tugged. Not roughly, but just enough to get Harry's full attention.

"Get back over here," he said, but without any real authority. Harry had no real choice but to allow himself to be pulled back over to Louis. Louis didn't let go of his hair. He kept pulling until Harry was well-nigh on top of him. Harry wasn't sure if Louis had done it on purpose, or had simply misjudged how zealous he'd been in coaxing Harry back to him. He'd hardly used any force at all, but Harry was so stunned by Louis' actions that he had yielded and allowed the pull of Louis' hand without questioning or even dreaming of fighting it.

They found themselves in a sensitive position when the momentum of Louis' hand finally ceased. Harry's head and chest ended up directly over Louis, a look of pure puzzlement clouding Harry's features. He quite frankly didn't know what to do. Of course he wanted the closeness, but didn't know to what extent Louis' tolerance would allow. Louis had done it himself, after all, he reasoned. He couldn't blame Harry for it.

They stared, paralyzed in this position, Harry's face mere inches from Louis.' Harry felt Louis' every breath, saw his long eyelashes flutter with disconcertment, while Louis observed Harry's shallow breathing, and how his hair had fallen down over his forehead. They were flustered in the worst way.

Louis looked shocked, his eyes wide. He really _had_ misjudged the pressure he'd put into pulling Harry's hair. And, damn it—it turned him on. He didn't know if he could say the same for Harry though. The lad seemed to be temporarily catatonic.

"Sorry, I wasn't tryin' to be a caveman, really I wasn't," Louis explained sheepishly.

Harry couldn't talk. The unformed words stuck in his throat, even though he _should_ have laughed, because what Louis had said was funny. But instead, he remained stock still, afraid that anything he did, any movement he made, would break the spell. He was reminded of the night in the bunk house when they'd been drinking the whiskey. They'd been in this same exact position on the floor.

Never mind the fact that Louis had just been talking about responsibilities, and not getting involved, or whatever. . . all that went by the wayside faster than Harry could blink his eyes. He didn't want to hear it anymore anyway.

One kiss. Just one kiss. What harm could it do? Harry ached for it. He had never kissed a guy before, but it couldn't possibly be any worse than the girls he'd kissed, or more like, attempted to without being able to fully follow through.

 _Because he hadn't liked it._

With Louis, he wanted it like nothing he'd ever wanted before. This sinful, carnal need threaded into him, and then caught and held fast, lodging in his heart. Louis' blue eyes tugged at that very heart in the most deliciously painful way.

Louis opened his mouth to speak, and what he said would have knocked Harry to his knees had he not already been lying on the bed.

"My God, you're beautiful."


	30. Chapter 30

_Bloody hell! What had he just said?_

The silence that seeped over them filled every corner of the room, haunting Louis and jolting Harry clear down to his toes.

 _Shit!_ Louis couldn't pull what he'd said back into his mouth. He'd been sure it had just been a thought, but no. He'd unwittingly said it aloud.

 _God, you're beautiful._ The words were making a steady circuit through Harry's head. It played over and over. Louis had actually said that!

Harry's astonished look told Louis he had to be accountable. He'd said the words, and they could not be taken any other way. All cheekiness evaporated in an instant and was replaced with ill temper. At least that's how it appeared to Harry.

"What?" was the only word Harry could manage to squeak out.

"Proper brilliant, that was," Louis grumbled, as if to himself.

He went to push Harry off him, regret peppering his words. Harry braced against him, refusing to move away.

"That was the nicest compliment I've ever gotten," Harry murmured, still dazed.

"Well, I shouldn't be sayin' things like that straight away."

"Straight away? We've worked together for months."

The man had set Harry's blood on fire when he'd said it, but did he even know it? Harry had his doubts. It had seemed to come out so candidly, so natural.

"Don't you understand? I can't . . . Louis' face became contorted, his breaths coming heavy now, looking as if this was the worst thing that could possibly happen to him.

Harry's tentative, cautious hand slowly lifted to his boss' cheek, cupping it tenderly, not uttering a word, but letting his eyes do the talking for him. Louis jerked his head to dislodge Harry's hand, but Harry followed his movement. Harry had never been this straightforward and aggressive in his life. But something within him made him want to fight to get Louis to be real about this. He felt like he couldn't feel this way alone—he needed confirmation that Louis was feeling the same way. Yet Louis continued to fight some inner, hidden demons.

This was spiraling out of control, and surpassing "just a crush" territory, but Harry couldn't seem to get a grip on himself. If Louis didn't like where this was going . . . they weren't on the same page. While Louis denied, Harry embraced. All he really knew was he wanted to be as close physically and emotionally to Louis as he possibly could.

"I know . . . I know. You don't feel right about it. But I like this closeness . . . with you," Harry whispered.

Louis closed his eyes. Perhaps to shut Harry out, or maybe to try to wrap his head around how they'd gotten into this cumbersome, sensitive situation. Or maybe he was gathering the courage to tell Harry he was fired, or readying himself to punch Harry in the face. Whatever was coming his way, Harry would embrace it like he did everything else. He'd take the punishment for stepping over the line as he had.

The onslaught of emotion was evident on Louis' face, and Harry knew he was fighting from within himself to regain his authority, to renew control. Louis was nothing if not practicing his sovereignty. Alas, there was no protocol in this situation. And that made Louis feel helpless as a baby. He didn't even know what his next move should be, other than getting Harry away from him. Harry had certainly never shown obstinate tendencies but he definitely was now.

The lad with the forest green eyes was holding his cheek and forcing him to look at him. Harry's eyes were ferreting out his very soul, and making Louis feel all kinds of weak. As leery and reluctant as he told himself he was, Louis couldn't deny the way his crotch was coming to life. Well, it had been ever since Harry had landed on his chest. The proximity- that was all it took.

The rain pattered lightly on the roof, the only background sound except for their breathing. It was close and intimate, and Louis never dreamed rain could put him in such a tranquil yet expectant mood, but he had the rain to thank, after all, for them being here to begin with. It had enabled them to wash themselves outside as it poured on them, laughing and rejoicing, it was the reason they were on this bed, alone. It had isolated them, cocooned them into this line shack together. The rain was good to them. Damn it-Rain was too romantic. Should he thank the rain or curse it?

The skin of Harry's hand was warm on his face, and he suddenly found himself wanting to feel Harry's skin everywhere. Their bulky sweats were in the way, but thank God for that because it was all that was saving Louis from possibly doing something really stupid.

Stupid as in ducking his hand under Harry's hair and onto the back of his neck, on down under his sweatshirt and onto his bare back. That thought predominated, and Louis swallowed hard, trying to erase the vision from his mind. He was rock hard now.

"Forgive me," Louis said out loud—again not realizing he'd spoken aloud until he heard his own voice. He lifted his head no more than an inch, and Harry closed the remaining few inches willingly, eagerly. Warm breath on his lips was the last thing Louis was aware of until he felt Harry's very, very soft, very, very full lips on his.

Resisting now would require the mental strength of a guru, the physical strength of a suma wrestler, even if Harry didn't insist. Louis hadn't the strength to even try. He was weak, and that feeling was foreign to him because he'd been brave and steadfast for so long. For once, he gave himself permission and didn't recoil from Harry's lips.

Mistake or no, Louis ignored the risks, the dangers, the possible repercussions.

Lacking experience, Harry kept his lips still, pressing them on Louis' tentatively, but not taking charge. Louis naturally did what he did best. He took the reins and took command. Burying his hands in Harry's hair and marveling at its silkiness, he coaxed Harry with his lips, moving them over Harry's lips until he began to get some of the same in return. He was teaching Harry to kiss, and that was incredibly hot.

Louis continued his gentle instruction. He didn't have to speak, just guide and carefully cajole. His communication was flawless, his lips were earnest; he surrendered to the strong pull of Harry's appeal, even though he knew he was towing a seriously dangerous line. His cock was throbbing, his nipples tightening, but he kept himself in check. Harry was pure—and very fragile.

So this was how it was _supposed_ to feel. It wasn't all just about desire, sex, lust. Louis' kiss was more emotional than physical, and this was just what Harry was seeking and needing.

Louis changed the angle of their kiss, sucking at Harry's bottom lip lightly, so as not to spook him. It was graduating slowly into heavy, decadent bliss.

So . . . thought Harry. It could be _both_ physical and emotional. The twin fires of emotion and lust worked together like magic.

Their breathing became rough and raw. The onslaught of emotion caught them both unaware.

The effect on Louis was immediate and jarring. This was nothing like kissing a woman, and it startled him from his numb-with-desire brain down to his feet, and everywhere in between. He wasn't having to talk himself into it. It flowed hot and pulsing right over the top of his inhibitions.

Louis began to savor Harry, trying to get enough of his lips to satisfy his burning desire. But he couldn't seem to get anywhere close to enough of the lad. He deepened the kiss, opening his mouth just slightly, testing Harry's response. Harry was nervous and inflexible—Louis could feel that. But that was natural. Harry was innocent, oblivious, and Louis found himself aching to coax him into feeling what Louis was now so engrossed in. If he relaxed, it might happen.

 _This was Harry, not a woman._ The stark contrast between kissing a woman and a man alarmed Louis, hitting him hard. It was a bright warmth compared to the dark, lonely tunnel he'd endured when he'd been intimate with a woman.

Louis' libido was in high gear, but there was also a sweetness, a tenderness that begged to be explored. The kiss deepened as Harry followed Louis' example and also opened his mouth just the slightest bit. He was experimenting, trying to discover what Louis wanted.

Harry had let go of enough tension to now be lying across Louis' chest with most of his weight, at Louis' urging. His hands splayed on Louis' shoulders, hesitant, yet overcome with feelings he didn't know he was capable of. They all slammed into him at once. He tried not to let his mind race and just lose himself in the kiss, but he was hyper aware of his erection, afraid Louis would detect it. He didn't know that this was authentic desire, nothing to be ashamed of. Then there were many other feelings to reckon with. Feelings he didn't know what to do with. His insides were seared, making him want to let go of all his inhibitions and show Louis just how highly he thought of him. He had no idea how to accomplish that, so he decided to put his full concentration into the kiss that was arousing him to heights that should be illegal to feel.

The bolts of desire whipped through Louis until he thought he'd fall apart at the seams. _So this was what it was all about_. Not an unpleasant duty, but euphoric to the point of being almost emotionally and physically painful.

The rain began to beat harder on the roof, supercharging their twin desires, frightening and coaxing them with the intensity of their need for each for each other. Louis became more and more demanding, Harry enthusiastic to follow his lead.

The intent in Louis' kiss was serious. But he discovered he still couldn't kiss Harry deeply enough, get enough of his lips and mouth. Even with his experience with women, Louis was nervous. Harry, however, met him stroke for stroke of their lips, and Louis felt a strange pride welling up. Harry was courageous. Harry hadn't even been with a woman, let alone a man. But he was giving himself to Louis. . . trusting him. The knowledge of that made Louis' heart thrum, and a sob lodged in his throat.

Louis wanted more. Where was Harry's tongue? He craved it, wanted the taste and texture of it, and _right now._ How would Harry respond? Only one way to find out. Louis fished Harry's tongue loose from its cowering position. He slicked his own tongue against it gently, rubbing slowly, an escaped moan making this moment the hottest yet. A tiny whimper slid past Harry's lips as his tongue responded and made love with Louis' tongue.

At this point, it got sloppy, careless, a little desperate. Licking, sucking, eating each other's mouths.

 _Harry was so responsive, so eager. Beautiful._

Louis knew without a doubt he'd be an insanely good lover. Louis delved into Harry's mouth over and over, making encouraging noises that Harry reacted to with his own little moans.

The kiss lasted for years, maybe eons, or it certainly felt that way. When they finally stopped, Louis' eyes went to Harry's delectable lips, swollen even fuller than normal by the frantic kissing they'd done.

And Harry saw that in this moment, all of Louis' hardness was tempered into tenderness. His face looked soft, his smirk almost a full-on smile.

"Right . . ." said Louis, feeling troubled and not a little disoriented Then he made himself say it before he could reconsider.. "And yes . . . I meant it. You're outrageously beautiful," he whispered, because he couldn't say it in a normal voice. "But what happens here, stays here. Sort of like Vegas . . ." he tried to make light of it with the inserted joke, but Harry didn't laugh. He smiled, but his mind was busy. To never be able to kiss Louis again? To have to go back to the ranch and act as if there was nothing between them? What greater torture could possibly exist?

If only Harry knew how Louis wanted to gorge himself on the lad. He wanted to hold him and kiss him all night long. He would never push Harry unless and until the moment was right. And he'd wait as long as was necessary without complaint. But it was no good for either of them. Common sense told him that. He felt greedy, taking advantage of Harry like this. Still and all, he knew the truth under it all. He wasn't using Harry. In the months they'd worked together, he had developed more than a fondness for the curly haired lad who worked himself as hard as he could, trying to prove himself worthy. Louis knew he shouldn't have allowed himself to become weak. Now he was so drawn into this, he doubted he'd ever be the same man.

 _He didn't want to destroy Harry, and he didn't want to destroy himself._

With a tremor in his hands, Louis broke up the intensity and produced a couple of candy bars, and handed one to Harry. The tension had to be eased somehow, and this seemed like a fitting choice at the moment. After catching their breath, not to mention their poise, they munched them as they talked, side by side, staring at the ceiling, and, without even consciously realizing it, they embarked on a journey to a deep bond that was the precursor to an unparalleled friendship. Harry hoped and prayed tomorrow would bring heavy rain, so that he could spend another day here alone, with Louis Tomlinson. There wasn't another thing in the world he would rather do.

When Louis got up to go outside to pee, Harry's eyes drank him in. The man was an art form. His lean muscling faintly visible through the sweats, along with the self -assured way he moved was Harry's imagination of the most perfect man in existence. Right here, only feet away from him. And he'd been kissing him!

When Louis returned, his hair unruly and languidly dripping over his forehead, his vibrant ocean blue eyes pinned Harry's from across the room. He said not a word as he settled next to Harry, rain coagulated in large, wayward drops sprinkled over his neck and face. Harry grabbed a towel they'd thrown in front of the fireplace and blotted the rancher's skin with it, letting Louis' spirit even out from the fresh cold he'd come in from. Harry's touch was caring and infinitely light. Louis' sweats boasted a few drops of rain. Not enough to change clothes though.

He smelled like rain, the outdoors, and clean skin. Harry inhaled him deeply, making Louis' face flood with crimson.

"Stop bloody smellin' me!" he mock complained at Harry's ecstatic sniffling sounds.

Tugged at like a magnet, Harry threw the towel back toward the fireplace, with it landing precisely where he wanted it to on the hearth, then snuggling up against Louis. Louis' first instinct was to flinch and shy away, but his senses were honed to razor sharp with every breath Harry took. As if they were his own breaths. Damn, even their hearts were beating in tandem. He didn't retreat. Instead, he allowed the snuggling, even encouraged it.

On their sides, Louis looked over at Harry, so close that he couldn't properly focus on him, seeing that Harry was dangerously close to nestling into his neck with his lips, and the Cheshire lad's devastating smile teased him at close range, lighting up the stormy night and turning Louis inside out. Harry should positively be arrested for being so damn exquisite.

"Am I a contender?" asked Harry playfully.

Louis swallowed hard. "Contender? For what?"

"Your affections."

"There's no competition. But there can't be any of that," Louis threw out as an admonition.

"Affection? Here, there can be. Just not back at the ranch." Harry's eyes appealed silently.

Louis, although putting on an act that everything was copacetic, still felt the prick of alarm at the way they were both behaving.

"Looks like the storm is movin' out. I expect it'll be clear tomorrow, and a couple of the guys will be comin' to fetch us," he said, clearly avoiding the direction their dialog was heading toward.

"We'll have a lot of catchin' up to do when we get back," commented Harry.

"We'll be alright. Not much work the others could do either with all that rain. I need to catch up on the bookwork anyway."

Harry perked up with interest. "I could help you with that sometime. That is, if you need any help."

Louis pondered over that for a moment.

"Really? You like that kind of thing? Keepin' ranch records? I really dread it. In fact, I abhor it."

Harry smiled. "I'm good with numbers, or so I've been told."

"Maybe we can work sommat out where you can do the books now and then, help me catch up."

Harry smiled, but for more than one reason. The idea of Louis trusting him with the books was a huge compliment, but even better, he'd be able to go into the house, see how Louis lived, maybe even be close to Louis now and then in the same room as Louis explained things to him. That wouldn't bother him a bit.

"In the fall, we'll have to get the calves ready for auction. That's not far off now. After that, things will slow down, and that's 'round the time I usually go to the Apache Mountains." Louis sported a pensive demeanor as if he was reminiscing about his prior visits there.

Harry remained in a quiet state, just listening, and imagining what it must be like to camp in the mountains, wild horses in the general area. It would be as romantic as this was, if that was even possible. But he knew that Louis went there for the seclusion and probably the silence. He wouldn't want someone tagging along, judging from his lukewarm, mostly indifferent response when it had been briefly mentioned not that long ago. So Harry didn't comment.

"Was it hard, following in your father's footsteps with the ranch?" asked Harry. He wanted to know more about it, as Louis seemed to have an unsettling mindset when it came to talking about it.

Louis' face took on a hard as granite quality that was just as quickly abolished, and even though he virtually shrugged it off, Harry still saw it, wondered what it meant.

"I did what I had to do. I had to keep rememberin' what me father wanted. He wanted to have the most successful ranch in the county. He always told me, "This ranch is goin' in only _one direction._ Up." Louis raised one thumb, pointing it toward the ceiling.

"And you feel obligated to do as good of a job as he did," Harry concluded. Louis had no answer, or at least, he didn't voice one. A slight nod was all Harry got.

A little later, Harry began to hum a song to himself. Louis, who had been stretched out on his back, rolled over onto his side.

"Bloody hell, but that sounded good," he remarked.

Harry turned a confused face to him. "It did?" he asked. "Only people who've told me that before was Audrey and Tish. But I thought that was because they're me friends. We used to do karaoke now and then."

"Sing some more," Louis essentially demanded, his eyes sparkling eagerly.

So Harry sang "Landslide" by Stevie Nicks, and Louis was staring long and hard as Harry finished up the last verse.

"Your voice is . . . distinctive, pleasing. Low, raspy, and that hook at the end that you sometimes throw in . . ." Louis shook his head in amazement.

"You like it? Really?" Harry had no clue of his talent—he only knew he had enjoyed singing from a young age. Harry obliged when Louis asked for a few more songs, trying to wipe the look of adoration from his face all the while.

They spent more time talking, and gradually they worked up to kissing again. Louis knew this kind of opportunity would probably not present itself again, at least not without extensive planning, and he couldn't deny how he felt about Harry, even though he couldn't define it. He doubted he would ever be able to get enough of Harry if they were in a relationship, and that terrified him. To feel that strongly about someone . . .

But for the moment, he brushed all thoughts aside and held Harry close, not willing to admit his ardor for the lad, yet also not willing to stop kissing him, knowing their time alone would soon be coming to an end.

Harry stealthily kissed the lobe of Louis' ear, making him shudder. Louis eagerly returned the gesture, his only excuse being because he could, and also sucked lightly at the lobe, drawing out a feral noise from deep in Harry's throat. Louis' cock twitched, leaving him with absolutely no doubt he was one hundred percent gay. It wouldn't be difficult, Louis envisioned, to introduce Harry to intimacy. He'd be introducing himself too, in reality. Intimacy with a man. It struck fear into his heart, but also excited him ceaselessly.

Louis propped himself on his elbows, and hovered over Harry's chest, all kinds of subtle expressions crossing his face. Harry studied him, and hoped he was right in what he thought he saw.

 _Pride_

 _Passion_

 _Possession_

 _Regrets_

It distressed Harry to think that Louis had regrets. He didn't want Louis to suffer because of their mutual feelings. The other emotions, on the other hand, thrilled him.

They fell asleep in each other's arms, each reluctant to lose physical contact, longing to hold onto the passionate kisses and sweet murmurings and make them into precious memories on this, their last night alone.


	31. Chapter 31

Harry opened his eyes just as dawn was spreading across the Texas sky. Louis' warm body was cuddled up to him, or maybe it was him cuddling against Louis. He wasn't sure, but it sure seemed reciprocal.

Fondness flooded his eyes with almost-tears as he gazed at Louis' peaceful face in sleep. Gone was the boss man with the anxiety, the restlessness, the worry lines, the sass. Replacing it all was a look of serenity and softness. And if Harry were to be honest, it looked uncommonly good on Louis.

Louis sensed Harry's attention on him and roused slowly, Harry looking on, still relishing the tranquility that had replaced the brusque look and manner Harry was so accustomed to seeing.

"You and your leg," Louis mumbled. Harry noticed his leg was draped over Louis' own legs, and began to pull it back in embarrassment.

"No need for that," Louis said quickly, trapping the leg with his hand. Louis didn't say it, but Harry got the idea he liked the contact. Louis' hand then went back to rest on Harry's waist, where it had been previously, making Harry gasp, the lion's share of their bodies touching, but Louis made no move to modify that. In fact, he seemed to savor it, but of course, in a cool way.

"Sick," said Louis as he glanced out of the window. "And this time, I don't mean a _good_ sick, but a _bad_ sick. The sky looks like it's gonna be cloudless once the sun rises."

Harry was halfway afraid to ask Louis why a cloudless sky would upset him, but he could only hope it meant that Louis was of like mind, and not looking forward to returning to the ranch.

Carved into Louis' face was an emotion Harry had trouble reading. Sadness was there, and something else. Dread? Dread that they had to go back to the ranch and be among other people? If Harry didn't know better, he'd almost believe his boss was a little stricken.

Louis cleared his throat. "Gotta go pee." He got out of bed, adjusting his sweat bottoms after turning his back on Harry, grabbing the toothbrush and the travel size tube of toothpaste, and went outside. Harry smiled. He wondered if Louis had been adjusting his morning wood. Harry had the same problem, but then, they were guys, and that's what happened to guys in the morning. The fact that he'd had the sexy beast called Louis beside him upon awakening had only made his problem more pressing.

When Louis returned, Harry politely asked for the toothbrush, and Louis gave it to him willingly, as if there was nothing odd about it—just as he'd acted yesterday when he'd learned Harry had used it. Like it was no biggie. Funny how that made Harry feel a little bit proud, honored. Harry squirted a thick stripe of toothpaste on the brush, and, knowing his cheeks were unusually rosy, went outside to ease his bladder and brush his own teeth. He was very anxious, in a good way, to see what might happen when he came back. He trembled as he wondered if Louis might kiss him again.

Louis was at the fireplace, and was rifling through his now dry Wranglers for something. He pulled out a gum wrapper and a key, his lips pulling up into a smile. "Shit," he muttered.

"What?" asked Harry with a smile of his own, basking in the sunshine of Louis' warmth.

"Oh, I was lookin' for me comb. Don't remember where I put it last night. But shit, this key is to the shed that holds the chicken feed."

"Here's your comb. I set it over here." Harry picked the comb off one of the shelves. "And why are you smilin' at a key?"

"Johnny hasn't been able to get the chicken feed out since we left 'cause I'm the only one with a key. Never got 'round to havin' another one made."

"Why would you lock a shed with chicken feed in it?" Harry asked, bewildered and laughing at the same time.

" Niall," Louis clarified nonchalantly. "Do I really need to elaborate? He eats it. You know Niall and food. Chicken feed is a favorite of his. I feel right guilty that Johnny or someone had to go to town in the rain just for chicken feed."

Harry laughed harder. "Is that really true? Or are you pullin' me leg?"

Louis shrugged, as if his trouble with Niall and chicken feed was just a fact of life. "It's true. Someone had to drive in that pourin' rain just for a bag of chicken feed. Either that or they broke into the shed, and it'll have to be fixed. And guess who'll fix it?"

"Niall," guessed Harry.

"You guessed right."

Louis laid back down on the bed, his eyes discreetly tracking Harry as Harry turned to face him. Harry knew they didn't have much time left together, as someone would be coming for them soon, and he was hungry for more kisses. Dared he hope?

But Louis made no move on him. Harry didn't know Louis was waiting to see what he would do. Louis had decided he'd be passive and see just how much Harry wanted him.

At first, Harry just plopped down on the bed, staring at the ceiling, and began to fidget only when Louis didn't do or say anything. He grew more unsettled by the moment. It took everything he had in him not to come onto Louis. He didn't feel it was his place. But simultaneously, he felt he should let Louis know he was open to giving and receiving affection. He just didn't know how to go about it.

He wiggled and squirmed, sighing deeply. Louis merely laid there, watching Harry's antics and hoping he was so restless because he was craving the same thing Louis was craving.

Finally, Harry scooted over closer to Louis, looking at his chin because he wasn't daring enough to look into those alert blue eyes.

"Look at me," said Louis softly.

Harry's entire body tensed. Just those three words were so incredibly sensual, hitting him like a brick. They aroused Harry to no end. It was an order, but a soft order, a gentle one.

Well, he had to obey orders, right? So Harry looked into Louis' eyes soulfully, and he could practically _see_ Louis melting. The edges softened, and so did Louis' face. The older man was aroused too. That raw, feral look he gave Harry told him so. He was barely holding himself in check, and Harry wasn't sure what would happen if Louis let loose.

They edged toward each other almost imperceptibly. Kind of like two inches forward, and one inch back. Both wary, both too aware of the possibility of a rejection.

"Hedgehog," said Harry softly, pulling a chuckle from Louis.

"C'mere, Hazza," said Louis, making up the nickname on the spot. They met roughly in the middle of the bed, and Louis became his foreign self again, the side Harry hadn't seen before last night. Tender and delicate with his lips, pulling Harry to him as he wrapped his arms around the younger man's waist.

In just this short time overnight, as they had slept, Harry missed the way Louis kissed, the way he teased. Harry had so damn much love to give that it felt like it was seeping from his pores.

Before Harry could really even process it, Louis was devouring his mouth once again, and it was last night all over again. The prickles, the tingles of desire were back, the rush of heat, filling Harry with a red hot need. Louis' mouth ate at his, pushing him flat on his back, their breathing ragged and labored.

Harry flourished under Louis' stimulation. He came to life, never having known what he'd been missing out on all these years. Louis' lips moving over his was magic. The heat continually flowed through him, never ebbing.

 _Oh my God._

He throbbed, his heart slammed against his ribs, and . . . he responded. Harry had been so dubious last night, so unsure at the beginning, but now, just like last night, he sensed with no doubt that Louis liked what they were doing. Louis must approve of Harry's actions because he was huffing and puffing like a dragon, urging more from Harry, showing his appreciation with sighs and barely heard coos that were only for Harry's ears to hear.

But . . . Louis was a complex man. He was the definition of hot and cold, and he chose this moment, only ten minutes later, ten glorious, mind drugging minutes later, to withdraw.

"I . . . I can't allow meself . . . to do that anymore." Louis' voice was full of despair. He groaned and sat up, holding his head in his hands as he perched on the corner of the mattress.

"Why, Lou?" Harry's voice was sweet—almost too sweet for Louis to bear.

"I just . . . can't." That was all Louis would say as he rose from the bed. "You don't understand . . ." his voice shifted, then he went back to his everyday way of speech.

"We need to get ready," he said, and just then, they heard hoofbeats approaching. Harry, distressed and hurt, could only glance out of the window to see Johnny and Niall riding up, leading Harry and Louis' horses.

 _Perfect timing,_ thought Harry with a grim set to his mouth and a heavy heart.

"Be right out," Louis called out the door, then shutting it and quickly getting into his shirt and jeans, slipping on his boots and hat. Harry did the same.

Before they walked out into the bright sunshine, Louis caught Harry's arm. The devil's glint in his eye, he asked, "Are you normally the big spoon or the little spoon?"

Harry looked confused, then it registered as to what Louis was speaking about. "Little spoon," he said shyly, looking at the floor.

"Good, 'cause I'm a big spoon." Louis smiled, chuckling quietly. Harry couldn't decipher what Louis' message was. Did this mean Louis still fancied him? Teasing him gently like this . . . was this Louis' way of letting Harry know that he had, in fact, wanted the kisses despite the way he'd retreated?

"Tried to call you this mornin' but couldn't get a signal," said Johnny, his gaze shooting back and forth between Louis and Harry. "Didn't know which horses you wanted, so we brought Joaquin and Saber."

"That's fine," Louis said. "Thanks Johnny and Niall. I'll have to tell Nora to come out here to clean, but mainly to wash the sweats we used here. Sure came in handy. The canned food too." Louis was trying to act casual, but Johnny could see the tension in both men.

 _Sexual tension._ Johnny doubted that they'd done anything, but there wasn't a doubt in his mind that they'd wanted to. The mutual attraction was not easy to miss.

"Had a hell of a time with Cactus," Johnny grumbled, trying to put Harry and Louis at ease. "He refused to cross a 'stream' of water," Johnny made air quotation with his fingers. "It was an inch deep, and two inches wide. I swear to God."

Niall, nodding to affirm it was true, started to giggle, and that giggle turned into full blown out of control, raucous laughter. So they all laughed. You really couldn't _not_ laugh because Niall's laughter was so infectious. Cactus was an eccentric horse. Steady and bomb proof as the day was long, but something like a butterfly that looked slightly different from the rest could make him fall to pieces with temporary wide-eyed terror.

"Wanna ride the south pastures with us today?" Louis asked Niall, as if he was afraid to be alone with Harry.

"Nah, gotta go fix the chicken feed shed." A fresh round of laughter exploded from four mouths, and, for the moment, Harry and Louis' awkwardness was gone.

"Sorry about the key, Johnny. I'm gonna ride in first and get some breakfast," stated Louis. "Wanna come with me?" he asked Harry, which caught Harry off guard, and brought a satisfied, relieved smile to his face.

"Sure. I'm right hungry," answered Harry cheerfully.

Johnny took note of their interaction, not missing a single twitch of an eyebrow, pursing of the lips, or any other sign of attraction or tension between the two. Harry was absolute rubbish when it came to hiding his feelings, and even though he tried to carefully subdue it, Johnny caught the way he looked at Louis. It was painted all over the young man's face, even when he tried to school his features otherwise. This wasn't mere hero worship, such as what Leo had. It was something that ran much deeper. Louis, on the other hand, wore a deadpan expression, knowing Johnny was watching with an eagle eye. Even so, Johnny had a bit of fun with him by grinning slyly. Louis ignored it.

"He knows," said Louis as he and Harry rode back to the ranch to get a bite to eat before beginning the day.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Who knows, and what does he know?"

"Johnny. He was givin' me a smart ass cheeky look back there."

Harry was a little shaken up. So, Johnny knew about their feelings for each other. He assumed that was what Louis meant, but couldn't be sure. Louis wasn't being crystal clear about it, and Harry knew Louis was purposely keeping him guessing. How would this affect their lives? That old familiar doubt, the uneasiness chewed at Harry like a persistent mouse.

"What will that mean as far as . . . disrupting things?" he asked, wincing at his own clumsy wording as he awaited Louis' response.

"It's none of his business, and he knows it. Johnny'll stay out of it," stated Louis with undiluted confidence. "Not that it's ever gonna happen again . . ."

Harry's belly tightened at that last sentence, something a little stronger than discouragement stabbing at him, but he believed Louis about Johnny keeping quiet, and that gave him some solace. The last thing they needed was for everyone at the ranch to know about it.

"And don't worry about your fuckin' job for a minute! I told you before, you're not gonna get fired!" Louis blessed Harry with a smile. Not a slight grin, but a real smile. Harry saw it as a rare gift, and hoped he'd see lots more of those in the future. When that kind of smile from Louis was directed at him, Harry felt like he was truly special.

Some ham, eggs and hash browns later, Harry and Louis had seriously renewed energy after eating only canned food for the last few days.

Cookie hovered over them, making sure they got enough to eat. He was like a mother hen when it came to feeding the hands. Nora bustled about, preparing to go clean and restock the line shack.

"How dirty did you get the sheets?" she demanded of Louis.

Louis knew she was only referring to the heavy rain and the possibility of mud, but he felt the searing heat of a blush coming on anyway, even though they hadn't even done anything sexual that would compromise the sheets.

"They're fine, but we used a few pairs of sweats, some towels, and probably tracked in a little mud."

"And drank some of the moonshine too, I'm assuming?" Nora's eyes were glowing a little bit. She was teasing Louis in her dry, deceptive way, knowing there was very little to do while trapped in the line shack, and with nothing else to occupy them, the ranch hands inevitably ended up getting into the moonshine when holed up in the line shack. It had always been that way. But she didn't suspect anything else—Louis could tell, and he was really grateful for that.

"Well, maybe a _little_ bit," he confessed.

"Oh you boys! I'll have to restock that too."

"Nora, there's dozens of jars of it! We only drank a little over one," Louis laughed. Harry just listened in and got a kick out of their exchange.

Cookie passed by, now arranging the bunkhouse for dinner that evening, setting condiments and silverware wrapped in napkins on the table. Harry could have sworn he saw Cookie give Nora's butt a light smack as he went by, attempting to be discreet about it. He almost would have believed it was his imagination if he hadn't looked at Louis, saw a fleeting grin on the rancher's face and realized it really had happened. Nora's very slight, almost imperceptible jolt confirmed it. Yep, the rumor must be true. Nora and Cookie were sweet on each other.

The next day, Niall was up earlier than usual. In fact, dawn hadn't even begun to break when Harry emerged from the bunkhouse, having been awakened from a very sexy dream about Louis by a loud, repetitive noise. He and Louis had been kissing passionately in the dream, and it was progressing, building up Harry's desire to a fever pitch. So he was grumpy, the dream having been interrupted right before the best part—as Louis' hands had begun to slide over his body. Niall was out there in the dark, his blonde hair the only thing giving him away, and Harry's naturally inquisitive nature caused him to investigate.

Barely able to see in the dark, Niall was using his cell phone's flashlight, propped up on the ground and aimed to just the right place as he hammered a nail into the chicken feed shed with one hand and stuffed a mouthful of the apparently delicious chicken scratch into his mouth with the other hand.

"Shhh . .. " Niall warned. "Don't tell anyone I grabbed a handful." His mouth was so full Harry could hardly understand him.

"I didn't see a thing," Harry giggled to himself as he strolled around, waiting for the others to wake up to begin the day. Looked like Niall hadn't gotten to the task yesterday. Evidently, it was worth it to Niall to get up at this ungodly hour just to swipe a few handfuls of chicken feed as he repaired the shed. Harry shook his head in amused amazement.

Over the next few weeks, Louis didn't really avoid Harry, but he didn't interact with him either. It was back to the way it had been before when Louis had dodged Harry, and he was careful not to attract the others' attention to it. Harry suffered because of it, but he displayed only a sunny face to the others. Louis brooded now and then, but that was normal for him so no one paid it much mind.

Harry could hardly stand it. He had to admit he was absolutely ravenous for the rancher. He watched Louis swing in and out of the saddle, wrangle the cattle in preparation to send them to auction, and assist mares and cows giving birth. Every move the man made was graceful and effortless. Harry wanted to drag his hands over those muscles, whisper in his ear, drive him wild. But most of all, he wanted to kiss his lips again. He mourned the option of being able to do those things. He wished a thousand times he'd been more forward in the line shack, initiated more kisses. Now all he could do was suck in his breath sharply and try to look away. It was futile—with the way things were, the chances of them being alone again was zilch.

Standing next to Louis and helping with every task, the other ranch hands might as well have been a hundred miles away. Harry loved the way Louis smelled after a hard day's work, lusted over the sweat that showed in the hair on Louis' chest under his shirt that was never buttoned all the way up.

But the Doncaster chap was forbidden. Harry couldn't lay a hand on him, even if he'd had the nerve, because Louis made sure they were never alone.

Harry agonized in silence, dejected and downhearted, not able to do a thing about the situation. He felt wrung out and lonely from within, even though he had his friends Johnny, Nick, Leo and Niall to joke around with and pass good-natured insults back and forth. Harry was getting more proficient at that. He was learning how to banter and spar with the others, but he grieved daily over the loss of Louis' touch.

One day, weeks later, Harry had dismounted and was bending down, wrestling with a rogue wire that was sticking out—a menace to the horses that were in that particular pasture should they hook a tender nose on it. Finally successfully clamping it down firmly with pliers, he felt a hand on his back. And not just a hand—it was _his_ hand. He knew who it was without even looking over his shoulder. It was the same touch Louis had used in the line shack. A light stroke up and down, along his spine. Almost a caress. Gentle, soothing, yet stimulating as bloody hell.

It was late—the end of the day, and dinner time. They had all been riding back to the ranch when Harry had seen the wire, and stopped to fix it quickly. Louis had seen him stop, and halted his own horse, letting the others go on ahead of him. No one had noticed. They were all eager to call it a day.

On the spur of the moment, sick and tired of fighting it, Louis had caved to the compelling, creeping temptation that he'd been resisting for so long. It had nearly killed him to steer clear of Harry all this time. He needed to touch him. The need was alive and pumping hard in his veins. He would surely keel over and die if he didn't do it. So he did, and the reward he got elated him. Harry's body softened under him. He could actually feel it. Then Harry leaned back just the slightest bit, into his hand. It was enough. Enough to let Louis know that despite the way Louis had shunned him for all these weeks, Harry still felt the same.


	32. Chapter 32

One day, there was a sudden emergency, and it was a fortunate thing that Louis happened to be near the creek when he heard a calf thrashing around in the water. Reacting immediately, he frantically called Harry over. The others were busy getting cattle sorted. Harry just happened to be the closest one to Louis, and there was no time to waste. The calf was in danger of drowning. Too late, Harry saw a break in the fence that no one had noticed; the calf had slipped out, and was now crying and plunging wildly, terrified and not yet knowing how to swim effectively.

"I'll rope him and pull him out. Just try to steady him as much as you can," instructed Louis. "Don't get a hoof in your face either." Harry leapt right into the water, having left Saber to graze. Joaquin was an old hand at this kind of thing, and Louis had often used him for pulling miscellaneous items around the ranch, so Louis didn't hesitate to throw a loop around the calf's neck in preparation to pull him out. The calf, unfortunately, had landed in the area of the creek where the mud was treacherous. Not quite quicksand, but a real and present danger for a calf that was only a couple of weeks old.

Harry watched the calf's head go under several times before he reached him. Harry was a good swimmer, but he had to be extra cautious with those flailing hooves. It seemed the calf might drown after all, because his eyes were already becoming dull with fatigue, and Harry knew he'd no doubt swallowed a lot of water. It had to be in his lungs too. He wondered just how long the baby bovine had been in the water. The animal was running out of steam, on the verge of giving up. It didn't take long with a calf that young.

Harry reached him at last, timing his approach to when the calf stopped struggling for a few seconds. Clasping the calf's face with both hands to keep his head above water, Harry nodded to Louis, and Louis began pulling. Joaquin went into a walk, allowing the rope to become taut. Then, making sure Harry still had a hold on the youngster, Louis instructed his horse to pull steadily. The calf's face immediately went underwater again from the pull, and Harry pulled it back up, now seriously questioning if the animal was going to make it.

"Should I stop?" yelled Louis from the bank.

"No . . . keep going," Harry grunted, the weight of the calf bogging him down, but he wasn't about to admit it. The calf weighed about seventy pounds, and it was slumping into Harry's arms now with exhaustion, unable to continue fighting to get to firmer ground.

Harry was sinking too, and his greater weight made him sink even faster than the calf. He went under a number of times before calling out to Louis.

"Wait!" Harry was gulping in air and trying to steady himself as well as the calf. He couldn't panic now. Problem was, if he let go for an instant, the little one would submerge again immediately. He took in several deep breaths, then signaled Louis to continue.

Louis could see how Harry was wrestling to keep himself and the calf above water. The steady pull of the rope around its neck would normally make a calf bawl loudly in protest, but this one was too weak to make hardly a sound. As worried as Louis was about the calf, he was more worried about Harry. It was a good thing Harry had developed strength in the last few months, and was also comfortable in water. It was the only thing keeping him connected to the calf, which was nearly dead weight now. Calves were money, but Harry was worth so much more than mere money. He mattered to Louis—he mattered too much.

Harry got himself situated, even though his boots were full of water, his arms ached from cradling the calf's body with his own, and he was getting very fatigued from continually trying to walk through the sucking mud. The calf was coughing in an effort to get the water out of his lungs. It was all bad.

"Try again!" Harry's voice was strained and hoarse, and the color had drained from his face. Louis prodded Joaquin forward, away from the creek again. When he turned in the saddle, he saw Harry and the calf both go under again. _Too many times. How much longer would either of them last?_ When their heads came up again, Harry's arms were floppy, and he stumbled when trying to take a step.

"Harry, stop! Let the calf go," Louis called out, vaulting down from the saddle, preparing to run to Harry.

"No. We're almost there!" Harry responded, his low voice full of grit, his teeth clenched with resolve.

 _The lad has spirit and backbone_ , thought Louis.

It was now or never. Louis mounted again, urging Joaquin to go into a slow trot.

At last, Harry and the calf were dragged onto the dry bank, Harry sputtering, the calf coughing. At least it was still alive. Louis made sure they were all the way out of the water before he stopped Joaquin, threw slack in the rope and dismounted, sprinting to Harry.

Louis kneeled down. "You okay, mate?" he asked. Harry, on his hands and knees next to the calf, nodded, apparently not able to speak just yet. He pointed to the calf, who just stayed on his side, struggling to breathe.

Just as soon as Louis could see that Harry was alright, just worn out and winded, he grabbed the calf by the hind legs, and abruptly lifted him into the air, shaking him as effectively as he could, considering the calf's weight. The calf coughed several more times, and then water gushed from his mouth.

Louis let the hind legs go, and the calf still lay there panting, but no longer coughing. He would recover.

Louis was immediately by Harry's side. He squatted down again, to be eye level with Harry. His hand rested on Harry's back, stroking, encouraging.

"I almost drowned you, Hazza. I'm sorry." His voice broke as he helped Harry get up, then supported him with Harry's arm over his shoulders as he walked Harry to a dry spot in the sun.

"No you didn't. I almost drowned _meself_ ," Harry explained. "I didn't want to let go of the calf because I knew if I did, he'd be a goner."

"Obstinate, you are. I was just about to jump in and grab you, and to hell with the bloody calf. You stubborn bastard." Louis grinned, relief flooding his face when Harry grinned as well.

Nonplussed, Harry just stared at his boss. He couldn't believe Louis was going to give up on the calf with his safety in mind. The turbulent blue of Louis' eyes told him how affected Louis had been by the incident. Harry's own eyes had turned a dark moss green with emotion.

"Sorry I've been so stroppy lately," Louis was admitting his weakness, and Harry knew it.

"I understood; don't worry."

"Still wanna learn how to do the book work for the ranch?"

Harry's eyes brightened. "Sure! If you still want me to."

Leo, Johnny and Nick appeared, leaving Niall to nurse his sore stomach, caused by too much chicken feed, but blamed on too much sausage for breakfast.

"What the hell happened?" Johnny's alarmed voice rang out.

Harry and the calf were soaking wet, and Louis looked pale as a ghost.

"Calf got outta that hole in the fence," Louis pointed to said hole. "I don't know how Harry did it, but he held him up when the calf was near drowned and I pulled the both of them out. This man here," Louis continued, "is a hell of a lot stronger than when he started workin' here. He practiced some super-human feats, gettin' that calf out alive."

"Hero for the day," commented Johnny with a warm smile for Harry.

Harry shook his head as if to deny his heroism. They all looked to the calf, who was now getting up, and hearing his mother mooing in an overwrought way, tromped back to the fence and disappeared into the hole. His mother promptly began licking him to dry him off.

Johnny smiled. "Right proud of both of you. You guys are a team, alright. Gonna go fix that hole right now." Johnny winked at them and cantered off on Cactus, leaving Harry and Louis looking at each other in bewilderment, wondering how much Johnny knew. Why had he winked like that?

Oh well. Nothing they could do about it anyway if Johnny was suspicious. And it sure looked that way.

"Hit me up when you wanna start that book work," Louis said to Harry. "And go rest a while, take it easy the rest of the day."

"No way!" Harry countered. He wasn't about to go laze around while everyone else worked. All the incident had been was a good work-out for him, anyway. The warm sun would dry his clothes in no time.

Later, close to dinner and quitting time, Harry called Louis on his cell. They were only a hundred yards away from each other, which Harry found a little bit humorous. He saw Louis swing his head in his direction when he saw who was calling on the display.

"You said to hit you up about the book work. Anytime is good for me, even tomorrow," he said when Louis answered the phone.

"We start paintin' tomorrow mornin,' but are you down for doin' it shortly before lunch?" asked Louis.

"Sure. Anytime is fine with me."

So the next day they spent the morning painting. Louis figured that between the six of them, they should have every one of the buildings and barns painted within a couple of weeks.

Afterward, Louis explained to Johnny about showing Harry how to do the book work, leaving him to explain to the others while he and Harry went inside the main house. He didn't feel like answering questions. No use in making an announcement when Johnny was perfectly qualified to take over and was, after all, the foreman.

Harry's eyes went wide as they walked in the front door. Vintage oak, everywhere. Very impressive, but in an understated way. As if the person living here didn't want to be a show-off or a braggart, or call attention to their wealth. Harry wondered if the house still reflected Louis' father, or Louis himself.

Louis walked briskly as he always did, and Harry wanted so badly to pause and just stare. From the downplayed yet still grand entranceway with its highly polished hardwood floors that shined like glass, they moved to the living room. The oak furniture was antique and solid, made to last forever, yet very welcoming. Not intimidating, but homey. Not a single piece was inexpensive, yet it didn't have that "rich" touch-me-not feel somehow, and Harry really liked that. There were very few knick knacks, the extent of it being a couple of carved wooden horses on the end tables. The coffee table was redwood, and unlike any Harry had ever seen. He couldn't get a good look at it though, as they strode on by.

Persian rugs were scattered around, very high quality, Harry assumed, and the huge rock fireplace rose to the ceiling.

Harry could see the kitchen to the right. It was huge and airy, with french doors leading to another room and with a picture window which gave it a bright, cheery air. He saw a butcher block counter top of cherry wood in what looked like a natural finish, and a long marble topped island in the center of the room which was a striking, bold blend of black, mahogany and tan. The tile floor was a light buttercup yellow, as were the walls.

Trying to take as much in as possible, Harry's head swiveled every which way. There looked to be a formal dining room to the left of the living room, but Harry couldn't see much of it. Just a very impressive chandelier. Louis led him through another door, down a hallway and into a room that was bigger than most bedrooms, explaining this was the office.

Massive chairs—two of them, sat at the biggest desk Harry had ever seen, and ledgers were piled on top of it. These, Harry assumed, were the ranch records. A computer held residence, but Louis made no move to power it up, and that made Harry wonder if Louis even used it for ranch records. Odd indeed.

"I had Nora bring in the second chair for you," explained Louis, and he gestured for Harry to sit down to his left, and opened one of the ledgers. It was all handwritten.

"Any refreshments, Louis?" asked Nora as she poked her head around the corner of the open door. "Lunch will be in one hour." Cookie could be heard making a racket in the kitchen.

"Yes, please. I'll have a beer. What will you have Harry?"

"Water, please. Gotta stay hydrated." Harry smiled at Louis.

"Make that two waters, Nora," Louis said. The smells that came from the kitchen told Harry Cookie was preparing spaghetti and meatballs, one of Harry's favorites. Nora appeared a moment later with a pitcher of ice water, two glasses and a plate of blueberry muffins.

"Don't eat too many, it'll spoil your lunch," she reminded Louis with a stern look, as if he was still a little boy. Louis nodded, showing a yielding attitude. Harry had a feeling Nora had a lot of influence around here. Louis seemed to quietly accept it.

"Thank you, Nora. Please close the door on your way out," instructed Louis. He apparently didn't want the sounds of Cookie's pots and pans clanging to distract them. After the door was closed, Louis turned to Harry.

"This is what you have to work with. The sales of calves and the prices they bring, horse sales, breeding records, cattle and horse births. I'm a little behind right now. Been workin' on it after work."

Harry could imagine Louis staying up late, doing these books when everyone else was asleep. The man couldn't possibly be very well rested. If Louis would let him, he could cut the man's work in half or better. A little bit of explaining and demonstrating from Louis, and Harry was eager to get started. An hour passed that hardly seemed like ten minutes to Harry. Louis' handwriting was barely legible, while Harry's was neat and orderly. Louis took immediate note of that.

"That's enough for today. Don't wanna burn you out at the start. In case you're wonderin,' this stuff would be easier usin' a computer, but me dad always did it this way, and I reckon I should keep the tradition, yeah? Let's have Nora bring lunch in."

Louis' father still had a heavy influence on him, thought Harry. It had been pretty evident though, for a while now. Louis was very regimented about the way things were run, the neatness of the tack room being only one example. The way the tools were all in their respective places, always cleaned before being put away, the medications for the animals always kept in stock, the specific amounts of grains and oats added to the horses' hay-all this spoke to how Louis didn't want things changed, and Harry knew from experience how he could be quite fierce about it when someone screwed up.

Louis used an intercom, and it seemed like seconds later that Nora brought in a tray with grilled cheese sandwiches piled high.

Harry sat back in the cushy seat that was firm, yet still felt like a pillow. He had been so absorbed with the ranch records that he hadn't even touched a muffin. "That spaghetti smells so good," he said. "But I know that's for tonight. These grilled cheese are right temptin' too."

"Ah, I can cook some kick ass spaghetti meself," boasted Louis.

"Can you really?"

"Yeah, it's one of the few things I can cook." Both men laughed.

Harry sure wished the two of them could have one of Louis' spaghetti dinners together, alone, minus the other ranch hands. But Cookie's delicious spaghetti would have to do for now. Maybe someday . . .

Louis hedged about going back outside again. He seemed to enjoy Harry's company, and the conversation revolved around horses, cattle and plans for the ranch.

"The house is lovely," Harry remembered to mention. "I quite like it."

"Right. Thank you. Most of it is the way my father had it, but I've put me own stamp here and there. That's why it's not all completely . . . uniform, shall I say?"

"I didn't notice that, but I know very little about decoratin' and furnishin,' offered Harry. "It all looks proper good to me."

"Well, for instance, the house is mostly oak, but me bedroom is cherry wood. And I added the redwood coffee table."

"I did notice it was unusual, but didn't get a good look at it. We were flyin' by so quickly, yeah?" Harry smiled, knowing Louis was very aware of his own quick, restless manner.

"I'll show it to you sometime. Right now I reckon we should finish eatin' and get back outside before they call in the troops."

So they ate. Louis stuttered a few times, but finally got his current thought out of his mouth. It was difficult and taxing for him. Harry knew from the expression on his face.

"I've been avoidin' you lately. I do apologize. But I think you know why."

Harry measured his words and regulated his inflections before he even allowed himself to speak. "You aren't at ease with me since . . . the line shack."

Louis cleared his throat, running his hand through his hair, shuffling his feet under his chair and wriggling his butt on the seat. Clearly unsettled.

"I, uh . . . don't feel right about . . . certain things." He looked so distressed and tormented that Harry felt he had to rescue him.

"Hey, like . . , no hard feelin's. Man, I have trouble with it too. It'll be alright."

That seemed to pacify Louis somewhat because a slight smile ghosted his lips.

Harry had patience—lots of it, when it came to Louis especially. Whatever it was Louis had to say, he'd tell Harry when he was ready. Harry knew he was holding something back. He needed to trust Harry completely first though, and Harry could deal with that. Harry could feel Louis' inner turmoil, his despair, his frustration. He wanted to offer a hug in the worst way, but knew Louis would probably recoil from it.

"It's okay, Lou. I'll still be here. I won't go anywhere unless you send me away."

Back outside, the ranch hands finished up the day with more painting, and Harry asked Louis when they would be tackling the ranch records again.

"How about day after tomorrow? Before lunch again, if you're up to it?"

"Sure I am. Anytime you want to," was Harry's elated answer. He tried not to disclose how pleased he was that Louis actually wanted his help. It made him feeling important, needed.

"You really _are_ very good with numbers," commented Louis. "I can't quite believe how quickly you took to it. Not to mention, I can actually _read_ your writin.'"

"Thanks."

In the bunkhouse that night, a myriad of thoughts and images surfaced in Harry's mind. He thought about the profit Louis was making. He hadn't seen the whole picture yet, but he had seen prices on calves, auction animals and horses, and he figured he was pretty accurate when he concluded the ranch was prospering impressively. Louis was doing very well in his father's wake. Harry was proud of him for that. His father would surely have thought highly of his son's competence in carrying on the legacy he'd left him. And he hoped Louis knew that, because the man was practically obsessive with doing things _right,_ the way his father had done things. He hadn't even changed the house except for a few minor touches of his own. Harry had the feeling Louis was still walking in his father's shadow in a sense; frightened, it seemed, of modifying or revising anything. Still not completely confident in his own abilities. As if he was petrified that his father might not have approved.

The many thoughts and images were disturbing in some ways, and quite restorative and stimulating in others. Now Harry set the images free that he enjoyed nightly. Gave them permission to float aimlessly. He imagined the breeze tousling Louis' caramel hair, gently casting off shimmers of gold. He imagined himself touching Louis sweetly, lovingly, making it impossible for Louis to turn him away. Making Louis want him. Louis would smile at him, his eyes crinkling at the outside corners. That was the way the fantasy went, but in real life things were quite different. Fact was, Louis showed little emotion toward Harry now that they were no longer in the line shack.

Harry could also imagine Louis caressing his hair, stroking it with his work roughened hands, as he had in the line shack. He'd done that as they'd kissed, often holding the back of Harry's neck to deepen the kiss. Harry went over each tiny detail in his mind. Louis breathing softly on his neck and cheek, holding him securely. The memory of when Louis had pulled him over to him by the hair when he'd tried to get off the bed. The heat of that recollection caused Harry's sex to throb. His mind wandered further down that road, making his breaths come quickly, his skin to flush and his pulse to pound.

Harry had thought of Louis every night before surrendering to sleep. He longed to be alone with him again. He absolutely craved Louis' lips on his own again. He doubted, though, that Louis would make any move to rekindle what they'd had in the line shack. He hadn't in the office. Not one inappropriate move. Harry certainly wouldn't need a kick-start. He was hard put to shove those thoughts out of his mind.

They finished the painting ahead of schedule, and the ranch looked even sharper than it had before. Louis had finally shown Harry the coffee table in the living room that Harry had been so interested in. It was beautiful, with twisting, shallow depressions in the wood, the afternoon light making it look like a winding creek, with river rock of various colors affixed permanently to the depressions in the wood. It tricked the eye, actually appearing to have water flowing through it, although none was present. It was so original, and as so many other things did, it reminded Harry of Louis' individuality.

As fall drew nearer by the day, Harry often thought of Louis going to the Apache Mountains. Johnny had said he was usually gone a couple of weeks. Harry didn't know how he'd fare with his boss being gone so long. His heart felt heavy and burdensome with the thought.

Louis had him help with the books a few times a week, and Harry was learning so rapidly that soon he surpassed Louis in his abilities to tally up losses and gains, almost entirely in his head, with little use of a calculator or pencil-pushing needed. In fact, the records were caught up in less than three weeks.

Louis didn't make any moves on Harry, so Harry respected that and kept an ample physical distance between them when working in the office. They remained a little more than civil and polite—they behaved as budding friends, but with no overtures of anything else. Until one day . . .


	33. Chapter 33

The stud needed exercise. That much was perfectly true. The day was hot and still-an Indian summer, but not quite as scorching as the previous few weeks had been. Without thought to consequences, Louis had impulsively invited Harry out for a trail ride on this Sunday, hoping he would agree to go. He didn't know what had possessed him—well, to be honest, he _did_ know, and he knew very well. He wanted alone time with the lad, even though he knew he was asking for trouble.

Louis was caught with his guard down when Harry's eyes lit up with unconcealed excitement when invited. Somehow Louis had hoped Harry would have other plans. Belatedly, he knew Harry wouldn't turn down a chance to go riding, even though that was what he did nearly forty hours a week, except for his time in the office. Harry never tired of horses. Louis hadn't fooled anyone, including himself.

Johnny had expressed a desire to put shoes on Saber today. When Harry had obtained him from the horse trader, he was barefoot, and his hooves were beginning to crack and chip from all the ranch work that was now required of him.

Johnny assured Harry he didn't need any help, but Harry nevertheless felt guilty about his fellow ranch hand and friend shoeing his horse while he went for a leisurely ride.

Saber, the sweetheart that he was, stood quietly tied, patiently allowing Johnny to rasp and pound at his hooves. Johnny shooed Harry away, insisting that with considering how cooperative his horse was, there would be nothing for him to do but watch.

So Harry went to the corrals to get another horse for his ride with Louis. Glancing over his shoulder and seeing Louis had nearly completed his grooming of the stud, he quickly roped Milady and brought her to the hitching post to tack her up. Knowing a stallion's often unpredictable behavior, Louis had elected to ready his mount at another hitching post that was located well away from the one erected outside the bunkhouse.

A few minutes later, Louis and Harry were headed north to the far pastures with no particular destination in mind. Johnny glanced up and caught the dreamy expression both guys were wearing on their faces as they rode off, and kept his discreet smile to himself. He told Shadow Bear sternly to stay with him. The stud was likely to kick out at the dog in his enthusiasm. She whined and wagged her tail slowly, watching her beloved Louis and Harry ride off without her.

The stallion snorted and half-reared on his hind legs in his eagerness to explore, and Louis grinned at his friskiness. The horse hadn't been out in a while with a rider—only in the pasture for a few hours a day, or at the end of a lunge line. The animal was what was referred to as a true black—no brown hairs anywhere on his body or face. His mane, naturally wavy and thickly heavy, hung down well past the base of the horse's neck, his tail sweeping the ground, an equally thick forelock cascaded down over the intelligent face and almost to the end of his nose.

Standing two inches over sixteen hands, and heavily muscled from typical stallion restlessness and vigor while galloping in pastures, endlessly searching for any available mare, the animal was impressive to say the least.

Harry noticed Milady was also restless today. But in a different type of way than her usual impatience at the beginning of a ride. Since he often rode Milady to give Saber a few day's rest now and then, Harry was now thoroughly familiar with the mare, and he soon noted something felt oddly different. Something he couldn't put his finger on. The mare nickered softly a few times and Harry thought it rather charming that she seemed to be "talking" to the stud Louis rode.

Man and horse painted an unforgettable picture in Harry's mind. The cool, collected command Louis exercised over the stallion seemed to come so naturally. Just watching him sit the massive horse so easily, his hands delicately finessing the reins, heels and calves subtly directing the horse's every movement was like watching a finely tuned instrument create a lovely melody under a skilled musician's ministrations.

Harry was also very much aware of Louis' awareness of _him._ The rancher didn't even have to look directly at him—it was something he sensed from deep within. The fact that he was just as aware of Louis made it all the more tangible. Something disturbingly vital vibrated between them, even though they didn't touch. They simply didn't have to.

But the beauty and serenity of the moment was short-lived. Harry felt the change in the atmosphere even before the air was suddenly charged with crackles of some internal, yet palpable energy. Perplexed, he glanced up at the sky. There wasn't a dark cloud overhead, so a storm wasn't brewing. The only storm brewing, he soon discovered, was the one ready to combust within the stallion.

Harry watched on in silent, wide-eyed wonder as Louis began to struggle to gain control of his mount that had suddenly erupted into explosive, inappropriate behavior. Clearly, something was agitating the stallion to the point to where even Louis' excellent horsemanship was having no effect. The animal plunged and snorted and bucked, and when it paused momentarily, staring in his direction, Harry saw fire flickering in eyes that virtually shot sparks.

Prancing boldly, nostrils flaring, the prominent veins standing out on its gleaming arched neck, the horse looked formidable. _And magnificent,_ Harry thought fleetingly. Not unlike its owner.

Even though well trained, he was still a stud, and Louis knew better than to take the stallion's antics lightly. With a soft curse, he gave himself a mental dressing down. He'd felt the tension building underneath him in the powerful animal's bunched muscles for some minutes now, but he had not heeded the warning.

He'd thought the horse was just fresh from his grain he'd had earlier this morning. He, more than anyone, knew that you never took a stallion for granted. He'd been too damn distracted by the man who rode beside him on this magical late summer day, feeling ridiculously romantic with the bluebonnets blooming all around them in such abundance. He'd been lax, taking his attention off the horse, and now the steed was unmanageable. He'd been blinded by the mystical moment, and certainly blinded with desire. But admitting it, even to himself, didn't come easy.

Right now, he felt more impotent than he ever had in his life. The stallion was now rearing in protest, totally uncontained in its exuberance, waving its forefeet frantically in the air, shaking his head angrily, and Louis feared that in its single minded rebellion the horse would lose its balance and fall over backward. His vast experience with horseflesh was what triggered enlightenment, and it suddenly dawned on him. This mindless, frenzied effort to break free of restraint was typical breeding behavior. Of course! The mare!

"Damn it, Harry! Back Milady away! Get her out of his path, _now!"_ Less concerned about himself, Louis' voice was raw with apprehension and fear for Harry. If the stallion got away from him . . . no, he couldn't let that happen, at any cost.

Harry starred at Louis in puzzlement, yet he obeyed his boss wordlessly, automatically and instantly, without a second thought. With a touch of his leg, he cued his mount to move sideways.

Meanwhile, Louis tried to circle the stud tightly to bring it back under his discipline, but the animal was so worked up that Louis couldn't even turn his head. The horse braced its neck, not giving to the skilled hands that held the reins, and began pawing the ground violently. Twelve hundred pounds of furious horseflesh fought the bit, tossing its head mightily, thwarting Louis' every effort with astonishing ease and incredible macho defiance as only a stallion in his prime can.

"What's wrong with him?" Harry called out, rigid and nervous, shivering in spite of the heat. Harry firmly reined the mare in, knowing there was nothing he could do to help the rancher. This battle was between him and more than half a ton of fierce stud that had transformed into a monster in the space of just a heartbeat. The huge stomping iron shod hooves and wild white-rimmed eyes were haunting to witness. Here was a stallion regally asserting himself, arrogantly flaunting his glory and power. As awe-inspiring as he was, his sheer size and power made him a very real threat.

"Dismount!" was Louis' thundering response to Harry's question. Harry stepped down from the little mare in a flash, eager to do his bidding; anything it took to get his boss out of this mess.

Louis waited patiently for just the right moment to vault from the rampaging animal's back. Even in the midst of the storm, Harry noted how stoical Louis was. The degree of quiet control the cowboy displayed amazed Harry. His hands remained rock steady on the reins, his seat perfectly balanced as he swayed in time to the stallion's wild leaps and jolting crow hops. Foam dripped from the stud's lips as Louis finally got the opportunity to throw his leg over the cantle and dropped lightly to the ground.

Louis sighed in relief, cursing quietly to himself, his knees almost buckling for just an instant. He tied the animal to a tree, eternally grateful he had thoroughly trained the horse not to test the reins or pull back on them. It had taken a few hard lessons, but the horse had been convinced.

Then, sucking in a deep, steadying breath into his lungs, he pulled himself together and started toward Harry with a strong, purposeful, determined stride that spoke no nonsense. Although Harry knew Louis would never be violent toward him, he still took a step backward in the wake of that intimidating blue stare. Those eyes of his boss were unreadable and hard as flint.

Louis snatched the mare's reins from Harry, and without a word, led Milady to a nearby gate. Tying the reins to the saddle horn, he led the mare into the pasture, then, satisfied she was now safely blockaded from his horse, exited and slammed the gate closed.

Then he approached Harry with intent, not slowing his pace one iota when he reached him, forcing Harry to walk backward to avoid a collision. Louis backed him right up against the pasture fence. Harry was now sandwiched between it and Louis' hard body as Louis braced his hands on the top rail on either side of Harry's head.

There was no way Harry could escape him. Breathing hard, trembling inside, not knowing what to expect, he at last looked up helplessly into Louis' eyes, which had turned dark azure with emotion. Anger, specifically. And his face was less than six inches from Harry's. His eyes pierced right through the younger man, and he looked nearly as frightening as his fractious horse.

 _And exciting._

Without warning, a sharp curl of desire whipped in Harry's middle. Why he should get turned on now, of all times, perplexed him. It was strong, so unyielding—like Louis' body, and Harry was jolted at his very nearness. Inflexible and tough, the older man's aggressiveness was all-consuming.

Hot, searing warmth cut through Harry's body, spreading even into his fingertips, and settling in his groin. Harry breathed in the man's intoxicating scent that was saturating his senses—leather, horse, and musky man.

"Damn it to hell, Harry! Out of all the fuckin' horses to choose from, why did you have to take the mare in season?" he demanded.

Appalled, Harry gasped. So _that_ was it! Now the stallion's behavior made perfect sense. Well trained or not, a mare in season was just too much temptation for a young, virile stallion.

"Oh God, Lou. I'm sorry. I didn't even notice Milady was in heat." He cast his eyes down and away from Louis' unrelenting, imploring glare.

"Well, I found out the _hard_ way! You try ridin' that bugger around a mare in heat, and I promise you'll be more careful in the future."

Harry's cheeks colored and burned with his shame. He wasn't a child, yet Louis had made him feel so foolish. Any ranch hand with half a brain knew to avoid putting a mare in season in a stallion's path unless they wanted her bred. It was a recipe for certain disaster.

And Louis rubbed it in. Harry had to realize the seriousness of his mistake. "If he'd gotten away from me and tried to mount her with you in the saddle . . . " Louis couldn't finish the thought. It could have been tragic.

Harry went on feeling incompetent and utterly stupid. He'd made an enormous error in judgment. He hadn't been thinking clearly because of his hurry to go riding with Louis because of his attraction to him, and he'd never live it down now.

In the next moment, Louis did the very last thing Harry would have expected. If he had thrown a fit, shook him until his teeth rattled, cursed violently and extensively, or stomped off, he wouldn't have been surprised in the least. But Louis' trademark unpredictable nature reared its head when he suddenly threw his head back and laughed in a rare outburst of complete abandon.

It was enormously sexy. And it went on and on. Afterward, Louis' throat continued to rumble with remnants of remaining chuckles, and Harry knew he had no clue how alluring the sound was to his ears. He wanted to strangle him for scaring him so, but even more, he wanted to melt into his arms. With a studied effort that cost him dearly, Harry resisted the impulse. Stunned, he was capable of doing nothing but study his fellow Englishman's face, trying to decide If Louis actually found this humorous, or he'd just plain gone off the deep end.

"You've gotten yourself in a whole heap of trouble. I reckon I'm fixin' to sidle up to you the way that ole' stud wanted to romance that mare." His accent was always much more pronounced when he lapsed into that lazy drawl of his, and the southern twang almost outweighed the British brogue. It was something Harry found extraordinarily freakish, yet somehow also exasperatingly irresistible.

Harry's blood simmered with desire he fought to keep under wraps so Louis wouldn't detect the massive intensity of it. Louis was smiling that impossible cheeky grin that stopped Harry's heart, and he suspected his boss was teasing him again, something he hadn't done in much too long.

"Got a hankerin' for a cowboy?" Louis' voice was unusually low, and as velvety smooth as a swig of kahlua with cream on top, even though it had the usual gravelly undertones. Like his accent, it was another contradiction that Harry was seriously loving. Louis' words cut to the quick, however, and Harry tried to make a mad dash; but with a lightning reflex, Louis grabbed him as the younger man attempted to duck under his arm and retreat.

 _How dare he taunt him like that!_ Louis was making their mutual attraction sound cheap.

"Couldn't resist," Louis explained, seeing Harry's pained expression. "But Chrissake, you know I'm kiddin.'

 _Geez,_ Louis thought. _He had to treat this guy with kid gloves, like a woman!_

"I'm not _that_ much of an asshole, am I?"

Harry glowered at him, giving Louis a dose of his own medicine by not answering. Louis withdrew at once, knowing he'd stepped over the line. In a fraction of a moment's time, Louis molded his features into that vexing, distant, concrete mask that made Harry want to scream in annoyance. If the Yorkshire chap wasn't teasing him, he was withdrawing from him. Couldn't he make up his mind? Was this how it was always going to be?

Louis was successfully closing the door on him again. His face was a study of feigned indifference, his wall of defense instantly erected. Harry felt an unlikely stab of disappointment. He liked his appealing laughter much better, although he would never admit it. It would make Harry too vulnerable to the man's sarcasm, and Harry was at his tolerance limit as it was.

Louis' gaze skimmed over the landscape, apparent detachment disguising the emotion that surged hotly in his veins. It swelled within the Donny man and crushed him in the same breath. Damn it, _Harry_ was crushing him!

"Stop doing that!" Harry suddenly raged, the words tumbling from his mouth without forethought, and causing Louis to jolt slightly.

"Doing what?" His voice was brusque, gruff, even to his own ears.

"Looking so damn closed off, unreachable." Harry couldn't believe how outspoken he was being. But Louis' uncooperative attitude at times threw him into a tailspin, and Harry was tired of dealing with his intemperance. He never knew for sure where he stood, and was getting downright weary of appeasing him. He needed to let his boss know how frustrating he could be to others. Actually, he wanted to slap that apathetic façade off his face.

Louis, standing there in numb disbelief at Harry's outburst, couldn't utter a word.

An enchanting idea was born just then. Harry would kill him with kindness. Throw him off guard, do the completely unexpected. Watch this insolent man's reaction. He needed a little shaking up. With a coy look, Harry boldly kissed his cheek. It happened so quickly that Louis had no chance to react before Harry spoke.

"Maybe I've got a hankerin' for one _particular_ cowboy." Flirtation hung heavy in his words, a soft yet obvious innuendo that held Louis entranced. At first, Louis thought this must be a trick. He didn't know Harry had it in him! Harry trying to get back at him for his harsh words about the horses. Yeah, he was onto what Harry was doing. And he liked Harry's newfound spunk.

Weren't cowboys supposed to be the mild-mannered sort? thought Harry. The others were, for the most part. Not this one. He didn't mess around. His forbidding, dark look was intimidating in the extreme.

Intending only to shake Harry up, give him tit for tat, teach him a lesson, and fully expecting him to run like the devil was after him (and, in fact he _was_ ), Louis removed his Stetson, removed Harry's also, set them on the ground, stood back up, and then went right for Harry's lips.

 _Surprise._ What happened blew Louis away. A previously incensed Harry accepted him. What little control Louis was clinging to evaporated almost the moment his lips contacted Harry's. The way Harry initially stiffened with shock somehow developed into a challenge. A little gentle persuasion couldn't hurt, Louis reasoned. He used the softer side of himself because he knew from previous experience that Harry fancied it. And he wanted Harry as hungry for him as he was for Harry.

Harry might be quiet and shy—except for his recent outburst, but he had blossomed beautifully under Louis' ministrations when they'd kissed in the line shack. But even Louis was unprepared for the impact of what followed.

There was just a brushing of lips at first, but the second Louis felt Harry soften and give in to him, he lost it. It was difficult for him to believe this was the same guy that had carefully kept himself at a calculated distance, almost going to extremes to be sure they never touched. So proper in the office, and respecting Louis' own brick wall attitude without question. Whether subduing a calf, fixing a fence or passing the biscuits at the dinner table, Harry had exercised perfect composure. Maybe there had been a reason for it, other than how Louis himself had walled himself off. Maybe Harry hadn't wanted to be a victim to desire again. Louis knew how that felt.

He could feel the smoldering fire that burned within Harry. And he coaxed the flame patiently, the scorching heat of it beginning to lick at his core. Never before had anyone responded so completely to him. Of course, it had only been women, but maybe they'd sensed his ambivalence? He had always wondered if that was how it was supposed to feel, or if there was supposed to be more, much more. Now he knew. He was attracted to men. Harry, at least. He couldn't keep running and hiding.

 _Oh God, was he ready to fully admit it to himself?_

What held him back from complete, glorious resignation to it though, was involved and convoluted. The same old story. Lying to himself, lying to others by omission, seducing women, then carelessly discarding them afterward because _something wasn't right._

Louis had often caught himself wondering if Harry thought about their previous kisses. Their affinity right now came as naturally as if they were already lovers. So Louis was hoping Harry had been yearning the equivalent of what he'd been suffering these past weeks.

He deepened the kiss only slightly, in degrees, ready to draw back should Harry protest. He wanted Harry's trust—it was paramount. And Lord almighty, Harry welcomed his intimate embrace, smoothly melding into him.

Harry was stunned. This had happened before, sure, but this time it was even worse. His limbs felt like lead, yet as weightless as the feathery Texas clouds above them. So conflicting, and the feelings got stronger every time they had stolen time together like this. Deep down, he'd known almost from the beginning that if Louis ever touched him in this way, he wouldn't stand a fighting chance. There was no point in trying to combat it, deny it or analyze it. The wicked, carnal bliss of it held him willingly captive and helpless, and the rest of the world faded . . .


	34. Chapter 34

Gaining courage steadily, Louis' hands went to the sides of Harry's face of their own volition, and it came naturally to stroke his cheeks and jawline with just the tips of his fingers. It was quite awe-inspiring in the way his touch seemed so innate and instinctive. Then he slanted his head and decided it was time to let go and give it all to the younger man. Give himself over to desire kept leashed entirely too long. The desire that had tormented him night and day. Had nearly choked the life from him.

His tenderness astonished Harry. The rough tough cowboy rancher pretense that was necessary when he was working with his men was cast aside, forgotten. He'd shed it in a heartbeat and replaced it with thick, sensual desire that he threw himself into head first. No, this guy did nothing halfway. And it was precisely this gentle side of him that had undone Harry before, and was undoing him right now. Harry had heard rumors that certain cowboys were good with women, and real gentlemen. Well, despite the rugged exterior, Louis was good with _men._ Sensitive, gay men like Harry, anyway.

Louis' lips became more demanding as he slowly began to devour Harry's mouth with his own, and Harry felt woozy, his knees becoming so weak and rubbery that he realized with alarm that he could no longer stand. He literally crumpled, slumped against him, but Louis held him up with those powerful, iron hard arms of his.

Louis' mouth opened, gently persuading Harry to surrender to his tongue, asking permission in that unique, unassuming way of his that he projected only toward Harry. He assumed things every day when working, but assumed nothing with Harry. And that seriously turned Harry on.

Harry opened for him, and Louis' tongue entered his mouth, tentatively at first, sweet, teasing, but also hot and hungry. Louis could not suppress the moan that rumbled from his throat as he stroked his tongue against Harry's. Nothing else existed for him now; in fact, he wondered if _he_ even existed. This was way too much Heaven to be reality. He became more aggressive, possessive, as the kiss went on, gradually working into a near frenzy, moaning more loudly, eating at Harry's mouth like it was a luscious melon that he'd been waiting for a very long time to savor.

He wasn't merely kissing the curly haired lad—his mouth was making love to his. Harry had not experienced a tiny fraction of Louis' brand of passion. The man's expertise, his emotion surpassed anything Harry had ever even dared to dream of. He realized he'd known absolutely nothing before Louis' mouth had taken possession of his. The man pressed his whole soul into it, and dragged Harry right along.

The kiss was long, sensual and it moved the earth for the two of them. Breathing was becoming a major effort for Louis as their lips parted and he moved away slightly. He looked down at Harry's nipples, the aroused tips protruding and seeming to call out to him. He'd seen them stiffen many times when he'd approached Harry. Had he been the actual cause of it? He would love to think so. He felt a strong urge to pull up Harry's shirt and run his tongue over those nipples.

He ripped his gaze away and fastened his eyes back onto Harry's bright green one. He wasn't an animal, and he didn't want Harry to think of him in that way. He wanted to kick himself for thinking about taking liberties. He'd gotten way out of control. He had to maintain Harry's trust.

But control faded fast. Harry's eyes asked a silent question of him, and he didn't have to be asked twice. Louis closed the distance between them since he'd stepped back after ending the kiss. He'd startled Harry—hadn't given any forewarning of his intentions. Harry was still impacted, still shaken, even though his eyes were pleading, his tongue running over his lips subconsciously.

Louis kissed him again at length, giving him his tongue and he swore he'd give anything else Harry wanted. When Harry was weak and literally whimpering with need, Louis stopped arguing with himself about being a gentleman. Harry wanted him. There came a time when things became clear and indisputable, and this was one of them.

Louis' hand brushed the bottom of Harry's shirt, pressing into the small of his back, teasing the fabric up, desperate to touch the other man's bare skin. Harry didn't withdraw. Louis let out a long, tortured breath and he shivered. He swore he could feel the vibration of it in Harry too.

Lifting the hem higher, the front of the shirt came up as well, slowly, seemingly unhurried. It was purposeful, meant to build the suspense, and it had the desired effect. Harry gasped, watching as Louis' fingers ever so slowly and deliberately lifted his shirt up to his collarbone.

Louis raked his gaze over Harry's torso. Never in his life had he been required to practice so much self control. Well, except for the line shack. And that had been agonizing.

Would Harry allow more than kissing? Did Harry also feel that aching passion that dragged so heavily?

When Louis at last leaned forward to lick the erect nipples that begged for attention, Harry jolted, but then sighed deeply and stood as if paralyzed, shocked and frozen in place with the feeling. No one had ever even touched his nipples that he could remember, let alone licked them!

The salty taste tingled on Louis' tongue, and he repeated the action, allowing his tongue to travel across Harry's nipples again and again, enjoying their hardness, lapping at one rapidly, then swiping the other, then fingering one, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger as he licked the other.

Lightning struck Harry and filled him with such a voracious hunger just from this bit of stimulation. He couldn't move a muscle. _Incredible._ When Louis sucked his nipple into his mouth, Harry had to lean back on the fence post, or fall into a heap on the ground, no doubt begging Louis to continue.

His body belonged to Louis; the bolts of desire slamming into him in rapid fire, refusing to turn him loose. He never knew his nipples would respond like this. Were even capable of it. They were pebbled as hard as rocks. They'd always been sensitive, but this feeling that was spreading all over his body was heightening his senses, yet dulling his mind—doing impossible things to his thinking process. All he knew was he wanted Louis' mouth to never stop.

Moving to the other nipple after what seemed like infinity, Louis sucked it in just as he had the first one, flicking his tongue against it at the same time. Harry was truly afraid he was going to come. Louis mouth continued to work on him, his lips and tongue demanding, vibrating with need, tongue flicking . . .

"Ohhhh!" Harry pushed Louis back roughly. Louis, caught totally unprepared, just gazed at him.

"I almost . . . I almost . . ." Harry was trying to explain that he'd loved it _too_ much, and that was why he hadn't let Louis continue.

He immediately saw the understanding dawn in Louis' eyes. The comprehension, and the satisfaction in knowing how he'd made Harry feel.

Louis' aqua eyes burning and smoldering, he roughly pulled Harry away from the pasture fence and in the direction of a tree, and suddenly Harry was shuffling backward as Louis pushed him up against it. When he had Harry's body cocooned between the tree and his own body, Louis ran his lips lazily over Harry's heated flesh.

He'd take his time, he said to himself mentally. He wanted Harry famished for him. If only he knew just how famished Harry already was.

Louis' mouth was all over Harry's neck, sucking gently, not enough to leave a mark. Harry shuddered violently because he just couldn't help it. Louis just simply continued, savoring the younger man's reactions, appreciating every one of them.

Louis' Wranglers were about ready to bust right open from the pressure in his groin. He couldn't remember ever being this rock hard in his life. His staff ached and throbbed with every heartbeat. Harry squirmed under Louis' mouth, silently imploring for more. Louis played Harry like he was a familiar, well-loved instrument. The primitive, untamed growls that came from deep in Louis' throat aroused Harry to new heights, yet it was more than terrifying because all command of his own body was gone.

There was an almost primal wildness about this man who was his boss as well as his friend. When Louis finally stopped kissing and sucking at Harry's neck and chest, he pressed Harry harder against the tree, and eased his thigh between his legs, offering friction where Harry needed it, wanted it. Louis coaxed him to spread his legs further by beginning a slow, almost imperceptible rhythm with his thigh, which was a little less direct than blatantly rubbing his erection against Harry. Louis did respect the fact that Harry was a virgin, and he wanted to be sure Harry knew it. Still, the sensations would have knocked Harry on his butt had Louis not been supporting his body weight.

Louis tested the Cheshire lad's response, watching his face as Harry let his head fall back, closing his eyes to savor it. He had opened to Louis, had spread his legs willingly, and it was beautiful to watch.

 _He was touching Harry, the bare skin of his chest. Was this wise? Harry was an innocent, didn't know what it meant to lose himself in this kind of burning desire. And it concerned Louis. At all costs, he didn't want to damage Harry psychologically. What if Harry wasn't truly gay, and just thought he was? This could ruin him._

Louis couldn't fathom destroying Harry's life. Harry deserved so much more. It weighed on Louis, yet he couldn't seem to stop touching. As for himself, could he accept being gay? The answer was too simple. For Harry, yes. Just about anything. No, wait. _ANYTHING_ for Harry, period.

Oh mother of God, what was he going to do? No woman had ever done to him what Harry did. And that was by just _being_ Harry. Just being the person he was. All goodness, all honesty. And it was _killing_ Louis. He loved the lad's sexiness, he loved the lad's soul, his compassion. Everything that was Harry, Louis loved. And he couldn't see how he could possibly keep running from it.

But . . . bloody hell! He was his father's son!

Louis drew back sharply, and Harry, in his euphoria, didn't notice right away. He was in that drug-like state that Louis knew only too well, because Harry triggered it in him. The fogginess, the sluggish reactions—Louis read it in Harry's eyes.

As it was, desire continued to roll over Louis in continuous waves, even though he no longer even had contact with Harry's skin.

"Lou?" Harry's voice, uncommonly low to begin with, held a guttural quality.

Louis cleared his throat. "I'm . . . I'm sorry," he hedged, not meeting Harry's gaze. "Let's finish our ride and get back to the ranch."

He left Harry cold and lifeless feeling, as if he'd just shot him with a fatal arrow, and strode back to the stallion.

Harry was way past perplexed. He felt boneless and numb. This was totally unreal. First, Louis had been yelling at him about the horses, then he'd practically attacked him with unbelievable passion, and now he was walking away again. Hot and cold. Boiling and freezing. Louis was infuriating and baffling. How in the world could a man make him feel the way Louis did, and then just turn and walk away?

Louis acted sullen again for the duration of their ride. He rode in front by at least twenty feet at all times, and Harry kept Milady back carefully, so as not to set the stud off again. Even so, Louis had his hands full, as the stallion kept trying to turn around to face the mare. So after another half an hour, they turned and made their trek back to the ranch.

"We're adults, and we should be able to resist temptation," Louis was actually giving Harry a dressing down after they'd returned to the ranch and had gone into the main house under the pretense of doing more book work. Louis had closed the door to the office so they could talk without being heard by anyone.

"I'm sorry about taking Milady along when she's in season, but what you did . . ." Harry didn't even know how to finish that sentence.

"Yeah, I know what I did," Louis growled gruffly. "And I shouldn't have. It's not professional in any way."

It took a lot to get Harry's dander up, but this teasing, or whatever it was that Louis was doing was causing Harry untold anguish. It hurt—it hurt a lot. Especially when this man, the man he admired so much and looked up to, also turned him on to no limit, came on to him only to withdraw. Getting off the horse, and then voraciously kissing and touching Harry? Who did he think he was?

"I didn't do anything to lead you on!" Harry was so hurt and angry that he lashed out without even thinking about repercussions.

Did Harry have to pick this particular moment to remind him of his indiscretion? Yeah, it was rather obvious where the problem originated, but did Harry have to strike back when Louis was at his most vulnerable? Louis knew he wasn't thinking straight. He wasn't being rational. But it was a lot easier to face if he told himself it was all Harry's fault.

The wall between them had finally begun to crumble. In fact, it had been knocked almost all the way down in the line shack. Harry's trust, damn it. Louis wanted it more than anything. He trusted Harry, and he wanted Harry's trust in return. He'd been well on the way to getting it. Yet his passion for Harry warred with what he believed was right. He shouldn't be this angry. Harry had done nothing to reel him in. In fact, he knew—if he could force himself to think lucidly, that Harry's words were true.

Harry was for all intents and purposes, practically livid. Something that he had every right to be. Louis also knew Harry was just as angry with himself as he was with Louis, for succumbing to their mutual desire. Louis knew this intellectually, but seeing the indignation in Harry's eyes still hurt.

That animal allure of Louis.' Harry knew that his only defense against this man's overwhelming charms and the way he affected him was to have an outburst of his own. When he'd been in Louis' arms, he hadn't even been able to think straight. He was totally under the man's spell. It was way too powerful to fight, and it scared him witless.

In truth, Harry knew he was not blameless. If he'd refused Louis, it wouldn't have happened. But he'd allowed it to happen because, apparently, he had no self control. Nothing good could ever come of it. One of them was bound to get hurt, so, in his heart of hearts he knew Louis had done the right thing by breaking it off before things _really_ went spinning out of control. He knew he was just being selfish for wanting Louis. And so, Harry had let the mare go into a reckless, headlong gallop shortly before they reached the ranch, leaving Louis behind to wrestle with the now extra frustrated stallion, and feeling every bit as frustrated as his mount.

"Why do you do this?" asked Harry. "Why are you so contrary?"

Louis fidgeted and played with his own fingers. Anything to avoid Harry's eyes. One shy smile from Harry, those dimples presenting themselves so innocently was all it took. Louis couldn't risk looking at him for fear the lad would do just that—smile and make him feel like his head wasn't attached to his body. All reason would dissolve and he'd be at Harry's mercy.

But Harry was a long way from smiling. He didn't know if he'd ever be able to forgive and forget this.

Problem was, Harry was almost as attractive when he pouted as when he smiled. Louis found himself in a very dark, bad place. He couldn't climb or dig his way out of the deep abyss of passion Harry created. He wanted to be his sensible self, able to make logical decisions. But Harry had some kind of power over him, whisking his rationality away in the blinking of an eye.

 _God, he'd let Harry do anything he wanted to him._

When Harry didn't get an answer to his question, he let the anger reign. It was far better than staring at Louis' strong jaw line, his rugged handsomeness that made his dick hard, even as he tried to will it away.

In frustration, Harry raised his voice. "Well, if we aren't doin' bookwork, I'm leavin. I don't reckon there's anythin' else to say." Harry turned his back and stormed out of the office. Well, he didn't really _storm_ out, since Harry was much too mild and considerate of other people that might be about to be slamming doors. Nevertheless, when he exited the office, Nora and Cookie looked decidedly guilty as they quickly pretended to be occupied with chores instead of trying to pick up pieces of the rather loud conversation that had taken place behind the office door.

"Damn it, Harry. I'm not tryin' to fuckin' use you," Louis murmured quietly to himself after the office door had already closed behind Harry.

Louis was indignant, Harry was huffy. Johnny saw it all on their faces. Something significant had happened on that trail ride.

Harry continued out to the bunkhouse, wanting only to be alone to try to sort this thing out in his head. Was Louis just trying to get a rise out of him? Trying to push him to see how much Harry would take? Or did Louis really want him? Had Louis told the truth about _anything_ he'd said to him? Harry was starting to doubt everything at this point. He felt paranoid, singled out, preyed upon. First Louis was all passion, and then, before Harry could even draw his next breath, the rancher was pulling a 180 on him, acting as if he despised him. He didn't have to take this teasing, or whatever Louis might call it. He just wouldn't agree to spend time with Louis outside of work hours unless it truly couldn't be avoided.

Turned out, Harry didn't have to worry. Louis kept his distance, and it seemed they were right back to where they'd been before they'd been stranded at the line shack. They barely spoke, they seldom looked at each other, they were stiff and formal with each other at mealtimes.

Harry had trouble sleeping because his emotions, along with his hormones, were running wild. When he was able to sleep, he had dreams that haunted him in the worst and the loveliest ways possible. Visions of Louis all jumbled and like patchwork in his mind. Visions of Louis shouting at him that he was fired for one reason or another, and sweet, hot dreams that rocked his world.

" _Let me love you," Louis crooned into Harry's ear, causing goose bumps to form up and down Harry's spine. Louis' vividly blue eyes swam into his vision just as Harry realized they were both naked under the covers, in the bed inside the line shack. They were alone, and Louis was taking full advantage of it. Being sweet, loving, enticing Harry until Harry felt he would surely implode with need._

The alarm shrieked loudly and rudely, announcing it was time to begin a new day, and making Harry wish he could smash it against the wall. This always happened. Just when the dream began to get to the good part . . .

A few evenings later, Louis headed out to do his final nightly check on the livestock. As he strode past the bunk house, he heard Niall playing his guitar softly, and then Harry's low, sensual voice singing along with it. Louis had always enjoyed Niall's guitar playing. It had always soothed him, but to have Harry's voice accompanying it mesmerized him immediately. He stopped in mid-stride, soaking it up, breathing it in as if it was air.

The lad had such a beautiful voice. And the words!

 _Shut the door_

 _Turn the light off_

 _If I wanna be with you_

 _I wanna lay beside you_

 _I cannot hide this_

 _Even though I try._

 _Heartbeats harder_

 _Time escapes me_

 _Trembling hands touch skin_

 _It makes this harder_

 _And the tears stream down my face._

Louis somehow unlocked his momentarily paralyzed muscles, and walked on. Those words were heartbreaking, and he'd had the strangest urge to sing along with Harry, even though he didn't know the words. He'd wanted to linger and listen, but was afraid of being noticed.

Peering out over the pastures just as the sun dipped and completely disappeared as he came to a halt, he turned suddenly on his heel and passed the bunk house again on his way back to the house.

 _Close the door_

 _Throw the key_

 _Don't wanna be reminded_

 _Don't wanna be seen_

 _Don't wanna be without you_

 _My judgment's clouded_

 _Like tonight's sky_

So now Niall had begun to sing too. And the words . . . once again, Louis felt immobilized. It was too much. It was as if the song was speaking to him. Something cramped up within him in the region of his heart. Good thing he was due to go to the Apache Mountains soon.

He had to get the hell out of here . . .


	35. Chapter 35

Louis didn't waste any time, and started making plans to go to the Apache Mountains the very next day. He talked to Johnny, and decided he'd go mid-October, in two weeks. Johnny was fine with that, encouraging Louis, just as he always had. The boy worked too hard and there was too much pressure and strain on him. He needed some time away from everyone.

Louis knew he needed time to think this thing with Harry over, convince himself that he could never be alone with Harry again. It would be borrowing trouble, as he'd already found out the hard way that he apparently couldn't keep his hands off the lad. He had to learn to govern himself. How could he ever concentrate, and do his job with Harry always on his mind and in his field of vision?

"Gonna do some thinkin' up there?" Johnny asked Louis.

Louis gave him a strange look. "Well, yeah. I always do."

Johnny continued to give him serious sidelong looks. "You've been restless lately," he stated.

"When am I _not_ restless, Johnny?"

Johnny adjusted his hat, careful, as always, not to let the balding spots show on his head. Louis had seldom seen Johnny without his hat in all these years.

"Oh, yer always active, but I meant . . . a different kind of restless."

Louis didn't know how to respond to that statement. It gave him the chills. "Wantin' to get out of here restless? Yeah, I reckon it's a little stronger this year," he conceded.

"Anythin' in particular?" Now Louis was getting suspicious that _Johnny_ was suspicious. About himself. And . . . Harry? God, he hoped not, even though his pragmatic mind told him it was totally possible. When he thought back of all Johnny had witnessed. . . the time Louis had thrown the drunken sod away from Harry at the barn dance, the time they'd both ended up at the creek that Louis had always wondered if Johnny might have somehow known about, their time in the line shack, and then the trail ride yesterday, ending up with Harry riding in like the devil was on his tail. Now if _that_ didn't look suspicious . . . All the times Louis actively avoided being anywhere near Harry. He'd sidestepped Harry neatly and precisely at breakfast most mornings.

Yeah, Johnny was astute, and if Louis had been in his right mind, he would have been more careful. It was just that Harry had such an effect on him that it was getting harder and harder to be discreet about his feelings for the curly haired lad. To the point to where he was approaching recklessness. Yep, this was the perfect time to get away.

The thought of leaving Harry for two weeks though . . . Louis sternly told his mind to shut up and shut down about it. He'd always looked forward to going to the Apache Mountains. Now he was ambivalent about it. He wanted to go because he _needed_ to go. Needed the time off, and needed to do some soul searching. But the thought of being away from Harry for so long sickened him from within.

Harry had known it was coming too, because Johnny had told him this was the time of year Louis always went. But he had forced his mind to shift to other things because he didn't know how he'd manage without Louis-mentally. He and the others were more than capable of minding the ranch while its owner was gone. It was the slow season too, so there was nothing much to do except feed, water and check the livestock, muck stalls and play cards. If Louis stayed at home, he'd be around more, have a lot of idle time, and that could spell trouble. Then again, Louis would probably spend a lot of time in the main house, Harry reflected, and he wouldn't see him much. And that would be nearly as painful as the boss being gone.

All the bookwork, for the time being, was up to date. All the breedings, foalings, calvings and sale prices were precisely recorded.

Only a few days remained before Louis would be leaving for the Apache Mountains. Apathy was setting in. Harry looked world-weary, and Louis looked like a kid who is being forced to go to summer camp when he doesn't want to.

And Johnny saw it all. He rubbed his mustache, twisting the ends with his calloused fingers. Never had Johnny seen Louis show such little enthusiasm for his yearly time away in the mountains. He acted more like he was preparing to go to a funeral than a vacation.

Louis was getting things ready for his trip, and Harry was trying stout-heartedly not to watch him. But his eyes kept wandering back, noting the clothes and personal items Louis was piling into one of the ranch trucks.

"Hey, Lou," said Johnny suddenly and rather abruptly, as if he was uncertain how his comment would be received. "We're slow, and most of us haven't got much to do. There's plenty of us to get chores done. Why doncha take someone along with ya this year?"

Louis looked up as if Johnny had just proposed something unheard of. And it was—until now.

"Don't think I want anyone goin' along. No offense, Johnny."

"Oh, I wasn't talkin' 'bout me. Maybe one of the others." Johnny took special pains not to look at Harry, who was standing the closest, intrigued with this particular conversation, yet trying to look distracted, as if he had his mind on other things and didn't notice the exchange.

Louis looked dubious. "Don't think that would work out. Reason I even go is to get away," he reminded Johnny, the dubiousness turning into slight pissiness.

"I know you like yer time alone, but you might enjoy company too. Who knows? You'll never know if ya never take anyone."

"I know, I know, don't knock it 'til you try it," Louis grumbled. It was one of Johnny's favorite expressions. And it held a lot of truth, too, although Louis would never admit it. It was true that he always grew lonely after the first several days, although he'd never told anyone. He'd felt like he needed conversation with a human being instead of just his horse on many occasions, there, out in the middle of nowhere.

"The lot of you—I can't think of anyone I'd want to take along," Louis tried to lighten his own mood by teasing at Johnny. Johnny, along with the others, took a lot of bullshit from him, but they all knew, also, that Louis thought the world of them. That alone made having a boss like him bearable.

Johnny laughed. "Take Harry," he said off-handedly, as if he was just joking around. "He's the only one who won't give ya grief."

"Yeah, right. Um, no. No one's goin' with me."

"Hey, I'll go!" Leo's voice cut through the still air. Even though Louis and Johnny appeared to be just farting around, there was now tension that was just under the surface. Leo didn't know either of them well enough to sense the underlying anxiety. Even Louis and Johnny themselves didn't fully understand the intensity.

"I said, no one's goin' but me," Louis snapped at the younger man. Leo's buzz shot down, he shuffled away, head down, shoulders hunched. Louis was his hero, and it would have been one hell of an adventure.

Harry had stiffened and his hands had clenched at his sides when Leo had invited himself. Harry wasn't angry, he was just taking it hard. _What if Louis had accepted?_ It was bad enough to lose Louis for a couple of weeks, but for Leo to go along would have shattered him. Not that he wouldn't have been happy for Leo—it was just that he would give his own right arm to be alone with Louis, and Leo was just wanting a fun trip. If Leo only knew how much Harry yearned to go . . . 

On the day Louis was to leave, he did a final check on his supplies. It would be fine anyway—one of the other cowboys would be bringing him supplies, including Cookie's food, every few days. He'd hardly suffer a hardship for that long if he'd forgotten something. But it gave him something to do. Instead of pondering Johnny's suggestion that he take Harry with him.

 _Out of the question._

When the ranch hands gathered around to say goodbye, Niall hugged Louis. Well, that was just Niall. So genuine and natural. Louis was used to it, and hugged the Irish boy he was so fond of back with enthusiasm.

Johnny stood back, analyzing Harry's body language. The boy was putting on an excellent show of seeing Louis off with a smile. But Johnny also noticed the lost look in those green eyes, the restless movements, the grieving that was already setting in. _He had to do something._

Nick was preparing to drive Louis to the Apache Mountains, horse trailer with Joaquin inside hooked up to the truck, and as Louis and Nick slid onto the bench seat, Johnny took a fortifying breath and plunged into potentially, _probably,_ hazardous behavior. He _had_ to do _something._

"Lou, damn it! Harry knows the least of all of us. He won't be of much help if an emergency or somethin' comes up. He won't do us no good here. Take him along. He might never get another chance like this. I can load Saber in the trailer right now, in less than five minutes."

The expression on Louis' face was priceless. His mouth hung open slightly and he looked rattled and perplexed, caught completely unaware.

" _What?"_ he said, somehow not being able to get any further words past his constricted throat.

"Harry!" commanded Johnny. "Get in there! Move over, Lou!"

With that, Johnny opened the passenger door and shoved Harry into the truck. He then rushed to the corral where Saber was, got a halter on him in about two seconds, and led him to the rear of the trailer, enlisting Niall's help by having him bring Saber's saddle and bridle.

"What the fuck is goin' on?" Louis leaned over Nick to yell out the window, nearly breaking Nick's eardrums, who was in the driver's seat. Harry was completely silent, caught off-guard just as much as everyone else. And hurt that Johnny would imply he was so useless and dispensable. Well, he hadn't _implied_ it, he'd _said_ it!

Johnny talked low and swiftly to Leo, who scurried to the bunk house and grabbed an armful of Harry's clothes, throwing them into the back of the truck so stealthily that Louis and Harry didn't even notice. They were occupied with staring at each other. Louis, with utter aversion to the idea, and Harry with stunned shock.

Louis was just getting ready to lean over Harry to open the door and shove him out when Johnny signaled Nick with an uncompromising, take-no-prisoners attitude to drive away _quickly and now._

And that's just what Nick did, without questioning anything.

"What the fuck?" said Louis for the second time.

"I don't know . . . I honestly don't know why he did that," Harry's candid voice and expression made it crystal clear to Louis that he truly was innocent. Nick was afraid to vocalize at all, period.

"Well shit. Shit, shit, shit!" was the last thing Louis said for the rest of the trip.

A heavy rock of unease formed in the bottom of Harry's stomach. Sure, he'd wanted to go so badly, but not like this. Louis didn't want him to go. He'd been thrilled with the prospect of going when Johnny had mentioned it a few days ago, but the last thing he'd wanted was for Louis to be coerced into it. More like, strong-armed into it. Johnny seldom got that imperious. Harry knew now that Johnny was aware of their mutual attraction-he had to be, and had done the only thing he felt would ensure the two of them would be alone together. So he didn't blame him. But how could either he or Louis enjoy this "vacation" if Louis was going to resent him?

He'd go home with whomever brought the supplies out to them. At least he'd get a few days of being in the Apache Mountains. The biggest worry, though, was Louis' state of mind. He didn't want Louis unhappy. And he certainly didn't want to force himself onto him. Louis should be allowed to do what he wanted to do—and that was to be alone. He'd earned it so many times over. The guilt was scraping away at Harry's insides.

Within half an hour after they left town, things began to look different; they passed fewer and fewer vehicles, the countryside becoming more and more rough and desolate. Soon, there was no human life to be seen—only the occasional wildlife. Then they began the gradual climb into the mountains. Up, up, up. Just when Harry thought the miles of bumpy dirt roads would never end, Nick silently stopped the truck, putting it into park, and went around to the back, presumably to unload the horses.

God, It was beautiful.

Harry had done his homework on Google. Even though he'd thought Louis would be going alone, he'd been curious about Louis' destination. The mountains had been named for the Mescalaro Apaches that had roamed the area in the 1900s. The highest elevation was about 5,600 ft. He'd read there were a lot of rocks, and a shallow, stony surface. Oak, live oak, juniper, mesquite, pinon and greenery surrounded them, and then Harry saw it—the cabin.

It sat atop a hill above where Nick had parked. The truck couldn't go any farther than it already had. The cabin was probably half a mile from where they were. Isolated was an understatement. There were no houses for as far as Harry could see—no vehicles, nothing. Only mountains and huge rocks. How would they traverse those huge rocks on horseback? As steep as some of the mountains were, it would be hairy, to say the least. Horses could slip on large rocks and sprain or break a leg even on level ground. Maybe Louis didn't plan on going far from the cabin? He could only guess.

Louis hopped out of the truck without a word to Harry to help with the horses. Harry wasn't far behind. They stuffed their clothes and toiletry items into saddle bags, Harry and Louis both surprised by Harry's pile of clothes. Nick was quick to tell Louis that it had been done under Johnny's direction. He didn't want Louis thinking that Harry had pulled a fast one, because he knew the kid hadn't.

As Nick drove away, assuring them one of the ranch hands would be back in three days, Harry and Louis mounted up and rode toward the cabin. That was when Harry saw the valley below. His breath hitched. Despite the fact that it was October, green grass abounded, and he wondered how far the valley extended. It looked to be many miles long and wide. If he'd thought the area was beautiful when they'd arrived, the valley could only be described as surreal.

The difference from the dirt roads they'd been traveling astonished Harry. Trees, a few remaining bluebonnets left over from summer, shade, warm sun, even butterflies. It was breathtaking with the mountains as a backdrop.

Louis pulled Joaquin up at the cabin. It was a log cabin, which didn't surprise Harry, but it was quite different from the line shack they'd shared not that long ago.

"It'll be plenty dusty. No one but me has been here for a year," Louis said. "Plenty of canned food, linens, blankets, etc. We'll have to shake out the bed covers and sweep the floor, check for spiders and such. But it's comfortable."

When they entered the cabin, Harry noted immediately how much larger it was than the line shack. A huge one-room dwelling, lots of cupboards and cabinets, the furniture being a coffee table and couch on the near side, kitchen table and chairs on the other, and wood floors. There was, like the line shack, also a fireplace, right in the center, against the far wall. It was charming, really. Not anything fancy, but more welcoming and homey than the line shack. He also noticed there was only one bed. That fluttery feeling in his tummy began when he remembered the bed in the line shack, and the kisses they'd shared there.

On one side of the bed was a nightstand and the other, a dresser. Like the line shack, there were no bathroom facilities, but then, no running water either. And of course, no electricity.

"There's a creek out that way," Louis pointed down into the valley and to the left. "It's fast runnin,' and safe for drinkin' and bathin.' Been filtered by rocks. Also has fish." Well, that answered Harry's unasked question about how they'd stay clean. He wasn't opposed to going a couple of weeks without a shower, even though it would be out of his comfort zone, but he especially didn't want to stink in Louis' presence.

"I'm really sorry about this, Lou." Harry was sincere, and Louis didn't doubt it. "I know you wanted to be alone. I'll go home with whatever hand that brings us supplies."

This brought no reply from Louis. He and Harry were busy dusting the furniture and shaking out the blankets and sheets, even though plastic coverings had been thrown over the bed and most of the furniture. Next, they swept the floor, Harry insisting on taking his turn because he didn't want Louis doing all of it.

Louis muttered something to himself, feeling strangely guilty because Johnny had not given either of them a choice in the matter. What had gotten into Johnny anyway? In his heart of hearts, he knew, but, like the last time he'd thought about it, it creeped him out. Still and all, Johnny had been bold as shit, and it was uncharacteristic of him to meddle in other people's business.

"Let's just see how it goes," he finally answered gruffly in response to Harry's earlier statement. "Don't worry about the dishes unless we're gonna use 'em. Cookie always sends along paper plates. All we really need are the coffee cups."

After they'd unpacked and folded their clothes, Harry putting his in the bottom drawer, and smiling to himself at what Leo had grabbed, Louis put his in the top drawer.

"I have a few pair of sweat pants, but no sweat tops. Just light weight long sleeve shirts . . . but it'll be fine," he added quickly. He didn't want Louis to think he was complaining.

"It gets colder up here than at home. Higher elevation. You'll need a sweat top too. I brought several. And I suppose you didn't bring a toothbrush or toothpaste?"

Harry blushed. "I didn't even know I was comin' here."

Louis shrugged. "Well, we've shared before, so I reckon it won't hurt to share again."

How could the thought of sharing a toothbrush with Louis arouse Harry so? He supposed the thought that Louis didn't mind was what was the _real_ turn-on.

After they'd put their clothes away, Harry went outside to sit near the edge of the gentle slope that descended to the valley below. There were fewer rocks in this immediate area, and Louis could see how the horses could manage it without peril.

Louis stayed in the cabin for what seemed like hours before he appeared with a large bag.

"This is our lunch," he stated, setting the bag down next to Harry. Harry had been trying this entire time not to think about that bed in there, and the way things had gone the last time they were alone.

"Let's see what we have," Louis was being much more civil than Harry had expected. He pulled a large thermos out, two paper bowls and plastic spoons. Then he dug up some homemade bread from the bottom.

"Chicken and dumplins!'" Harry cried, "For lunch?"

"I think this was supposed to be dinner," Louis responded. He took the bag and its contents back into the cabin and returned with a bag of sloppy joes, pickles and curly fries, along with a couple of fruit cups. Cookie was amazing. There was nothing he liked better than to fix tasty dishes. Harry swore he didn't consider it work, but fun.

As they ate, Harry commented on how beautiful the scenery was.

"That's why I come here. For the beauty and serenity. A little later, when it starts to cool down, I'll bring a blanket out so it'll be more comfortable."

Harry tried not to show any reaction, but the mere mention of a blanket got him all hot and bothered.

"Tomorrow, you might get a chance to see the wild horses."

Harry had forgotten all about that in his excitement of being here alone with Louis.

"Really? How can you get close enough?"

"I have binoculars in the cabin just for that purpose." Louis was amenable and accommodating, talking easily to Harry, making the younger lad feel at least somewhat welcome. They talked only about routine things such as the ranch, the other ranch hands, and Harry stressed how eager he was for next year's spring round-up. Louis agreed Harry was much more proficient with a rope, as he was now even roping moving objects when he was mounted on a horse.

Dusk came more quickly than either expected, sneaking up insidiously on them. With little or no warning, the air was suddenly colder, and Harry felt the goose bumps rising. Louis went into the cabin and got a fire started. Harry's pulse throbbed, knowing it would soon be dark and he'd have to go inside too. He recalled how awkward the line shack had been, and how they'd argued about the bed, and who would sleep in it. He wished they could just skip over that part, get into bed, and be done with it.

He didn't hope for Louis to even touch him—just being in bed with him would be splendid. He wanted to get along, and maybe build on the friendship they'd gotten close to achieving in the line shack.

When he had the fire burning, Louis took a moment to look out of the window and indulged himself a bit, watching Harry sitting near the edge of the gentle drop-off into the valley, the lad's beauty flooding his senses. He was so lovely, so perfect, and how had he just appeared in Louis' life? Was it fate? Louis didn't really believe in fate, but still . . . how was it that Harry had happened to end up in Pecos Texas, at the Rocking Horse Ranch instead of some other state, or anywhere else in Texas? They'd both been born in England, and had ended up here, in America too. Strange the way things sometimes worked in life.

How had he found the fortune to have him here with him, on this mountainside, not another soul around for miles? And here he'd been complaining! But no . . . he wasn't gay, even if he'd hinted as much to Harry. What had possessed him? It had been a weak moment. He shouldn't have said it, even though he trusted Harry not to tell anyone. Harry had proved his trustworthiness to the absolute max. Louis felt safe confiding in him. But really, there was nothing to confide. He'd have to tell Harry that he didn't know what had come over him when he'd made the confession, or rather, a stupid slip of the tongue, because Louis _couldn't_ be gay. He just couldn't. It went against the grain.

They took a blanket outside for a short while, Louis draping it about their shoulders, making Harry shiver with a feeling other than the cold. They stayed until they were forced to go inside so Louis could stoke the fire and they could warm up.

The moment Harry followed Louis into the cabin though, Louis was already spreading a sleeping bag on the floor.

 _Here we go again._

"I'll warm up our dinner, and then we can decide who will sleep in the bed."

Harry sighed to himself, trying not to allow Louis to see his exasperation.

 _No more being alone together._ He remembered Louis' words only too well. The boss man seemed to be fighting a battle within himself, and Harry wondered why. He found it upsetting, and he felt Louis was being dishonest with himself in a roundabout way. He was being dishonest with Harry as well. Not everyone was as open as he was, he supposed. They'd been over this all before. Why couldn't Louis just relax? Harry was regretting coming now, even though he'd practically been kidnapped at the direction of Johnny, and wishing fervently that things could be comfortable and relaxed between them. It wasn't like he was going to attack Louis in bed! And Louis had to know that. But this man's compulsion to always to be in control was agitating Harry, making him want to just disappear.

"Johnny didn't mean what he said about you when we were leavin.' I just wanted to be sure you knew that." Louis looked uncomfortable.

"It did upset me. But why did he say sommat he didn't mean?"

"I wish I knew, but for some reason, he wanted you to come, and he must have felt that sayin' those things would convince me." Louis was testing Harry to see what the lad might have to say about it, even though it might very well cause Harry to say something he didn't want to hear.

So Harry tried to manipulate Louis in return. "I agree it was . . . apparent he wanted me to come, but I still don't know _why_." Harry was fishing to see if Louis would admit he, himself, knew the reason why. But that wasn't even close to happening.

Louis merely shrugged as he dished their dinner onto the paper plates. The discussion was quite clearly closed.

The chicken and dumplings was just the thing to warm Harry's insides on this nippy night. That, and the fire. And . . . the thought of Louis, sitting right beside him on the bed. Neither one had made a move toward the table. Harry hated guessing games because he never knew what to say, or how to act. Louis had described himself as a straight shooter in the past, but one area where he _wasn't_ a straight shooter was where Harry was concerned.

"We're not fightin' about the sleepin' bag and the bed tonight!" Harry was jarred with his own outburst. It only seemed to happen around Louis, and even then, rarely, and only when they were alone. "I won't have you sleepin' on the floor. I won't touch you, but I can't live with meself if you sleep on the floor."

Louis, taken aback, pondered Harry's determined, grim green eyes for all of about twenty seconds.

"You're not settin' the rules 'round here. I helped build this cabin, and me regulations are what we'll go by."

 _Someone_ was getting cocky.

"I'm gonna sleep on the floor, if anyone is."

"No you're not. I am," came Louis' curt reply.

Harry's fuse was growing short, and he found himself actually taunting Louis. "What am I gonna do to you? Are you scared of me?"

"Of course I'm not."

Having a mini hissy fit, Harry stood up and stripped to his underwear, grabbing his sweat pants and one of the shirts, putting them on, and crawling between the sheets, openly daring Louis to do the same. He hoped his plan worked.

It did. Louis, determined not to allow Harry to think he was afraid of him, undressed himself, slipped into sweats, and climbed into bed. It was nearly dark by now, but Louis didn't bother to go get the lantern. He glanced at Harry and saw the slight, satisfied grin on the lad's face, and felt like shaking him.


	36. Chapter 36

Harry was in no mood to surrender to Louis, figuratively, like he usually did. So he had adopted an attitude that was slightly on the haughty side. And he had not a clue what it was doing to Louis.

Louis found it stupendously appealing. Here was a component to Harry's personality that hadn't cropped up before. Except maybe briefly in the line shack, at the creek, and the time, that seemed so long ago now, that Harry had insisted Louis look at him, and not evade his eyes. So Harry Styles had some spunk to him. He just didn't advertise it often.

Louis' guarded eyes flashed a cobalt blue in the near-dark, caution ruling him.

 _Where was Harry's mind at?_

He soon found out, as Harry promptly rolled over on his side, facing away from Louis. Okay, so, it was barely dark, and Harry was going to sleep already? Whatever. Louis lay there, hands clasped behind his head and waited for Harry to give an indication that he was asleep. Like that soft, steady pattern in his breathing.

After they'd gone back home from the line shack, Louis had found it difficult to sleep for lack of having Harry beside him. He'd grown so used to it in the. . . what. . . two or three nights he'd spent with him? He couldn't even remember the time frame, as it had all blended together, with certain highlights that were heavily underscored in his mind. Those moments were really special . . . all the kissing . . . but, no, those thoughts were banned.

"Lou?" Harry's voice roused Louis from his musings.

"Yeah?"

"Were you asleep?"

"Yeah, but I'm not now," Louis lied.

"Sorry."

"What did ya want?"

"Well, um . . . like, are you ever gonna tell me that nickname of yours?"

Louis knew exactly what Harry was talking about. Harry'd remembered it all this time!

"How much is it worth to you, mate?" Louis could have kicked himself. That had sounded so . . . suggestive.

Harry either didn't notice, or pretended not to.

"A dollar?"

"Hmmmm . . . " Louis acted as if he was contemplating it. "Maybe."

"Well," Harry leaned over and grabbed his wallet from his jeans and pulled out a single. Louis waved it away.

"I'll tell you if you promise not to laugh."

Harry returned the dollar to his wallet, stuffed it back in his jeans and then turned to Louis, those wide eyes of his shining like bright coins in the dark.

"I promise," he said, sounding very much like a young teenager would when sharing a secret at a sleep-over.

"Well, I'm trustin' you not to spread it all over Pecos." Louis closed his eyes, even though the room was so dark that Harry could barely make out his expression under the crescent moon that glowed dimly down upon them from the window.

Louis didn't want to hear the laugh or giggle, or see the smirk on Harry's face when he divulged the nickname. There was a sizeable possibility he was going to be sorry for this.

He took a deep breath, let it out slowly, letting the silence linger, then uttered, "Boo Bear."

Silence. For a long moment. Louis waited, but no giggle came, nor any other sound. He slowly turned his head and dared to open his eyes. Harry was smiling, but not in a way that said he was poking fun. Rather, in a sweet way.

Tension hung thick around them, and Louis still feared Harry would burst into laughter at any second.

"I like that. Someone has a lot of affection for you," Harry said.

Louis sighed in relief.

"Me mum. I was only three, but I remember it well. I think me dad told Johnny, Nora and Cookie. Whatever, doesn't matter . . . but word got out somehow and now all the ranch hands know it. Except of course, Leo."

"And I bet you forbid anyone to use it too."

Oh, Harry was on the ball.

"Yep."

Harry could just imagine Niall using the nickname, and Louis jumping down his throat.

"I bet Niall's messed up a few times," he commented with a grin.

Louis smiled slightly and nodded. "More than once."

"Were you really asleep just now?"

"No."

"Then why'd you say you were?"

"Fuckin' with your head, Curly."

There wasn't much Harry could say to that. He still got disconcerted sometimes with Louis' blunt ways.

Louis spoke up. "A few days ago, maybe a week ago, I looked out the window of the house and saw you sittin' out by the chicken coop, and those newest baby chicks were all in your lap. Just climbin' all over you. The hen was pickin' at the dirt right beside you, content and trustin' as could be. I spent the better part of an hour watchin' you. Later on that day I saw Niall sittin' in the same spot you'd been, and I guess he was tryin' to copy you. But all the chicks were givin' him a wide berth, and then the hen decided to attack him. He jumped up just before she got him and said, 'Jesus Christ! That mother cluckin' hen hates me!'"

Harry laughed hard, holding onto his sides.

"No, really. It really happened," Louis said, the mirth in his voice barely controlled.

"Niall's a real character. I really like him," said Harry after he'd caught his breath.

"Yeah, we all do. For some reason, the hands that end up at the Rockin' Horse Ranch have been some of the best people I've ever met." Louis looked wistful. Harry wondered if he was referring to himself as well. He sure hoped so. He was also astonished that Louis had watched him from the window for nearly an hour. Why would he do that? He couldn't possibly find his interaction with the chickens _that_ interesting.

Harry decided to take a chance. "Tell me about your dad . . . that is . . . if you want to," he said a minute later. He wanted to find out why Louis' dad still seemed to have such a hold on him, such an influence, even though he'd been gone several years.

Louis stiffened a bit, but then seemed to decide there was no harm in discussing his father with Harry. He relaxed and got more comfortable, snuggling into the covers, looking as if the question didn't bother him as much as Harry would have imagined it would. It was kind of cute, and Harry took the moment to admire his boss cozied up in bed. He looked so inviting . . . but Harry tried to shake that thought off. With any luck, Louis might be feeling comfortable enough in Harry's presence to talk more openly.

After pondering it for a bit and concluding that if Harry was curious enough to ask, Louis would tell him.

Well, he was tough . . . tough on his employees, tough on me, but mostly, tough on himself."

Harry chuckled slightly, catching Louis' immediate attention.

"What's that all about?" Louis asked, just short of defensive.

"Oh, nothin.' Nothin' bad anyway. I was just thinkin' that he sounds kind of like you."

Louis let out the breath he'd been holding. He wondered fleetingly why he'd been so quick on the gun in case Harry dared to criticize his father.

"No, no. He was much stronger than me. Really, he was," Louis insisted when Harry shook his head in the negative.

Harry continued to disagree. "You're exacting, precise, and tough when you need to be, and _really, really_ tough on yourself. You don't sound like you're that much different than him to me."

Harry's words bounced around in Louis' head. What he really wanted to say to Harry was something like, _Me dad wasn't gay._ But he refrained because he didn't want to put himself out there like that, didn't want Harry to know how much it ate at him, haunted him, would give him no rest.

"Maybe in _some_ ways he was like me, but not all," was what Louis settled on saying out loud.

Harry suspected Louis just _might_ be talking about himself being gay, and his father _not_ being gay. But that could be a stretch, because from what Harry had gathered so far, both Louis and his father were very complicated and intricate in nature. You never knew for sure what Louis was thinking. It could be many things that Louis spoke enigmatically about.

"Did you get on with your own dad?" Louis asked.

Harry smiled, his eyes becoming distant, fondly recalling things he'd done with his father like playing cards, going to football games, and watching movies together.

"We got on very well. He wasn't as . . . complex and driven as your dad seemed to be. He was mellow and easy going."

"Like you," commented Louis.

Harry nodded, and Louis could almost see the wheels turning in his head. "I guess temperament really is inborn as well as environmental."

Louis liked that Harry seemed to be well read, and had put thought into his reply. The lad was no slacker.

"Yes, and I reckon you're right. Me integral disposition is similar to me dad," admitted Louis. "Just as yours is to your own."

"Do you ever wish you could do things over? Like . . . do things differently with your dad?" asked Harry.

Louis thought about that, running his fingers over the stubble on his cheeks, resulting in a slightly raspy sound that made Harry's nerves tingle in a good way.

"Yeah. Sometimes I wish I could have had a more _normal_ childhood and relationship with me dad. More like yours. But of course, you lost your dad earlier than I lost mine, so I shouldn't be complainin.'"

"True," Harry replied." I lost mine earlier. But me dad gave me a foundation, a baseline to pattern me life after. So it may have been only fifteen years, but it was a really fulfilling fifteen years."

"Me dad also gave me guidance, but in a very different way. He was a lot more serious than your dad, in fact, often somber."

"Oh, I realize he gave you direction, but, as you said, he had a different attitude toward life in some ways."

Louis was enjoying the shit out of this conversation. So he just shot from the hip, and said it.

"I enjoy the shit out of this."

"Talking?"

"Yeah, but more specifically, talking to _you_. The others are fun, but they talk about simpler, basic things. Safe subjects. Things that don't usually run deep. Johnny is the only one who talks . . . solemnly with me on occasion, but even so, you are on a whole different level."

Well, Harry was going to dare to take that as a compliment. He was thankful, contented, and even proud that Louis thought of him in that way. Louis seemed to take him seriously, where many people in his life had not. His mom, Audrey and Tish took him seriously, but, as Louis had hinted at, they both seemed to need this male "bonding," so to speak.

Harry could see how battered Louis' soul was. He didn't know if anyone else could sense it, but the tone in Louis' voice told him the older man had a need for this kind of camaraderie. Was, in fact, yearning for it. Harry was thrilled to be the one to provide it. He'd love to touch Louis, but it had to be Louis' move. These things have a way of working themselves out if it's meant to be. He had to keep telling himself that. And Louis was not one to be persuaded or coerced. Harry wouldn't want it that way anyway.

"Have you ever thought . . . about why you haven't come out to the other guys?" Louis asked.

Harry squelched a gasp. That was the last thing on earth he'd expected to come from Louis. At that moment, it began to dawn on him how much trust in him Louis was exhibiting. To even be discussing things of this nature was not routine for Louis.

He frantically searched his thought process for an answer that would help keep Louis calm, keep him talking.

"Um . . . like . . . no. I was afraid of being judged or disliked," it was as honest as Harry could possibly make it. It was the truth. "Besides, I didn't feel like I really needed to. Do I really need to put a label on me sexuality?"

"So you wanted them to have a good impression of you?" Louis asked. "And you didn't think that would happen if they knew?"

Holy crap. Harry was afraid of saying the wrong thing. He had to word this just right. He felt as if he was on very thin ice, which might crack at any time, and then Louis would refuse to continue, the result being a splash of ice cold water to Harry's face.

Deciding to ease his way through this, Harry deliberately dialed himself down. "Yeah . . . guys like me are ridiculed all the time." Harry was careful not to include or refer to Louis in any way, even though Louis was aware Harry knew he was also gay.

"Life is hard enough already, yeah?" Louis' eyes were soft and in that moment Harry felt as if the Donny man would forgive him for just about anything.

"That's the honest truth," responded Harry. Much too conscious of Louis' nearness made heat spread through him, the acute awareness of Louis' body so close to his own waking new discoveries within himself that had long gone dormant. He'd given up on finding any kind of romance.

"I couldn't . . . I couldn't respond to a woman recently," Louis' voice was very quiet and tremulous.

Harry was flabbergasted, not really sure what exactly Louis was saying. Had Louis gone to bed with a woman and not been able to perform? He didn't know what to say.

"Oh?" he said, settling for a relatively safe reaction.

"Yeah. At a bar. I went there to pick up a woman. Thought I'd try one last time." Louis looked into Harry's eyes, wondering what he'd see there. All he saw was confusion.

"But she didn't do anythin' for me."

"You weren't feelin' it?"

"Nope. Nothin.' That . . . that scares me."

Louis' demeanor changed then, in hardly a complete heartbeat. He seemed to make a mental decision, and then he stiffly turned his back to Harry.

"Good night," he said.

Harry knew what was happening. Louis _wanted_ to talk to him, tell him everything. All his thoughts, all his fears, all his loneliness about being gay, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it. Harry had read it in his eyes, and he understood. And he hoped Louis would ultimately decide he was trustworthy enough to confide in. Eventually they both dozed off.

The next morning, after a night of sleeping fitfully and waking off and on with racing thoughts and digging bottomless abysses in his mind while also fighting off disturbing dreams, Harry awoke to an empty bed. He had liked waking up to a warm Louis in the line shack, so this was the ultimate diss, at least to his way of thinking.

 _Give him time._

Through the window, he saw Louis sitting outside where they'd watched the sunset last night, sipping a mug of coffee, staring listlessly out over the valley. There was a certain gloominess that hung over him like a cloud. He looked lost. The man was holding a lot inside.

Harry wondered why so many men didn't express their feelings and emotions for fear of being tagged as weak. Louis was anything but weak, but apparently Louis wasn't convinced of that fact. Harry approached him with the utmost caution.

What kind of mood was he in? After last night's curt good night from the man, Harry didn't know how to conduct himself this morning.

So he just sat down beside Louis, and simply said, "Good mornin,'" leaving the ball in Louis' court.

Louis' feelings toward Harry were erratic. Most of the time he liked him enormously, but on rare occasions he almost hated him-hated what Harry was bringing out in him. Hated that Harry made him feel soft. He needed time to examine these feelings, and that is what he'd been doing for the last hour. He needed to discover himself—to stop hiding from his feelings. Trouble was, he wasn't at all sure how he should feel. Sometimes he felt like half a person.

"Mornin,'" he returned, muttering more than articulating.

"Sorry if I . . . upset you . . . last night," Harry had debated if he should say this or not, and his clumsy way of stammering it out didn't help the situation much.

Louis stretched his arms above his head, his hands ending up behind him supporting his weight, and his legs sprawled out straight in front of him, crossed at the ankles.

"You didn't. Had nothin' to do with you. Just me own hang-ups."

Harry tried to digest that as Louis went and fetched him a cup of coffee.

"Thanks," Harry's eyes sparkled when Louis put the mug into his hand. He could have gotten his own coffee. It was a nice gesture.

He wasn't going to prod Louis into talking any more than Louis himself volunteered.

Louis sat back down, meeting Harry's gaze, trying not to get lost in those green eyes again. It was so much easier said than done. Harry had a way of rendering a person speechless with his beauty. He was not only sweet and lovely, but he set Louis' blood on fire. Louis didn't like feeling helpless, but Harry had a way of reducing him to a shivering ball of need.

Harry couldn't see into Louis' mind, and to him, the man seemed so disengaged, and it was worrying. He didn't want to infringe on Louis' privacy.

"I'll have me coffee inside," he said as he got up to walk into the cabin.

Louis perked up. "Do you want to be alone? In the cabin? If not, stay here."

Harry stopped, his back ramrod straight and still turned away from Louis.

"I'll come over there and pull your hair again," Louis mock threatened, his eyes glimmering with suppressed laughter.

Harry smiled. "I'd like that," he murmured, as he slowly turned and retraced his steps.

"What, me pullin' your hair?"

"Staying here," Harry corrected him playfully.

They sat and watched their hobbled horses grazing in the valley below them. Louis had scattered hay and grain about that Nick had brought along, and Harry was aware the creek was not far away. He imagined the horses really enjoyed this time off to relax and just be horses.

"Sooner or later we'll see wild horses off in the distance," Louis indicated with a nod toward the far side of the valley.

"How many are there?"

"Oh, a couple dozen last time I was here. Sometimes more, sometimes less."

They lay prone after a while, propped up on their elbows, chins resting on their hands as they watched the valley for the horses.

"Do they know where the creek is . . . if they're thirsty?" asked Harry, referring to their own horses.

"Oh yeah. Joaquin's been here so many times that he knows the area well. He's already escorted Saber to the creek. They splashed it in as well as they could with the hobbles," Louis smiled, remembering how the horses had dipped their noses into the water clear up to their eyes, and kicked it up at each other, trying to play like youngsters. He'd watched to make sure they didn't try to roll and then drown because of the hobbles. He'd been ready to step in if needed.

"How long have you been up, anyway?" asked Harry.

"Hour or so, I guess. Your leg was over me again."

He said it in such a monotone casual way that Harry wasn't sure if he was disturbed by it or slightly amused.

"Sorry."

"Just don't let it happen again." Louis' grin gave him away, and Harry's heart suddenly felt unusually warm. If he could sleep with Louis Tomlinson for the rest of his life, he would, and gladly.

A little later on, they took soap, shampoo and their toothbrushes to the creek.

"It's a little fast runnin', but not so fast that you can get carried away with the current. It's perfect for bathin' because all the dirt and soap are swept away. It's clean because it's filtered through all the rocks," explained Louis as they approached the creek. "So we can drink it too."

It was ridiculously refreshing to get all the sweat, dirt, and horse smell off, and they splashed around after bathing for quite a while.

Harry was rinsing his hair a final time when Louis advanced just to give his long dark locks a light tug, just the way he'd done in the line shack to keep Harry from leaving the bed. Louis had been dying to do that again for the longest time—sink his hands in those locks, and even though he could only do it in private, it brought him great pleasure to finally indulge himself again. The sight of it dripping down the lad's back nearly to between his shoulder blades, some of the wave remaining even when soaking wet had enticed Louis until he could no long curb himself.

"Don't ever cut it," Louis admonished, his voice laced with longing.

Harry's skin prickled with awareness of Louis' closeness. A smile lit his face despite himself. He was disconcerted at his awakening libido. Harry had never felt this way about anyone, male or female. It fanned out warmly in his belly, a foreign feeling, and delightfully tingly, changing from warm to hot in seconds. The only other time he'd felt like this was when Louis had kissed him. . . and kissed him . . .. and kissed him. It had been almost unbearably sweet.

Louis could see that Harry was far from complaining, flashing those dimples and charming his own heart right out of his chest. Louis was hard-put to keep from touching Harry, other than the brief tug to his hair. He wanted to reel him in and kiss him long, sweet . . . and . . . passionately. But he had too many demons to deal with. It was killing him. He was being pulled in two different directions. He could do what was right, and step back, not giving into temptation, or do what his emotions cried out for. But that was impossible, because he'd be doing himself as well as Harry a major disservice. And he couldn't possibly put any hurt on Harry. Harry was innocent. Even if Harry would have him, he couldn't promise anything. Because he still refused to completely accept the fact that he was gay. He prayed these feelings would pass . . .


	37. Chapter 37

The moment was disappointingly fleeting. Louis backed off, shaking himself like a dog, pretending to get the water off his face that his hair had dripped into his eyes. But he was in reality trying to shake away his raw desire.

"English muffins," he said suddenly, and a little brokenly. "Cookie sent some along. Sound good, or do you want to rummage around in the bags for sommat else?"

"English muffins are fine. With peanut butter," Harry had registered the odd tone in Louis' voice but didn't know what it meant. The man seemed to be having difficulties getting words out of his mouth.

Back at the cabin, they put on clean clothes and heated up the English muffins over the fire that Louis stoked and got started going strong again, then slathered peanut butter on them. Harry had found some in the cupboard at Louis' direction.

"We can cook eggs over this fire too. You know how good the hens' eggs are," Louis reminded Harry. They'd stored them in the coolest spot around-a mini cellar Louis and the hands had dug under the cabin. It was a very small space, only about three feet by four feet, but big enough to hold more than enough food for two weeks for at least two people.

"No, I'd rather wait until later to eat a bigger meal. Me appetite is more for sommat other than food," Harry blurted out without realizing he was all but admitting to his sexual appetite that had suddenly come to life. He was instantly mortified, and swallowed down a gasp. What a mouth! He seriously needed to learn to govern it.

"What?" Louis furrowed his brow, peering at Harry curiously. Harry _couldn't_ really mean what it had sounded like.

"Um, yeah, like . . . watch for those wild horses." Harry sighed in relief and pride that he'd come up with a quick, natural sounding answer. Louis knew of his passion for horses, so it saved his ass. But he'd better be a lot more careful in the future. Next time he'd probably get busted, mused Harry.

Harry hadn't known this kind of longing was even possible. He realized he hadn't really _lived_ until Louis entered his was feeling off balance and aching with Louis beside him as they peered down at the valley. Wanting, but not knowing what. Fear mixed with desire made him tremble. Louis was sitting just a little closer than what was normally acceptable for two men.

Louis knew Harry was fighting his own emotions, and it took every ounce of willpower Louis possessed to step back. Physically and mentally.

"I'll get the binoculars," he bit out before his yearning made him all squishy, and then caused him to melt like a chocolate Easter bunny in the hot sun, and went into the cabin again. Regaining his composure was taxing, but he had to do it. Harry couldn't see him in this state. His eyes would give him away, surely.

"Happy days," announced Louis as he strode toward Harry again, proud he'd found the binoculars so quickly. He wished he'd had an excuse to stay in the cabin longer though. His pants felt skin tight. And they were, in a critical area.

His mind being mostly numb, Harry took the binoculars Louis offered, nodding his thanks that Louis was letting him use them first, horses being the absolute last thing on his mind at the moment. Normally, he'd be beside himself, but Louis was a very effective distraction.

"Quick," Louis gestured to Harry to move closer to him, even though they were already almost touching. "They're coming for their daily drink of water."

Louis quivered with shared excitement, because he knew how much Harry had been looking forward to this.

Louis gave Harry an encouraging smile. When Harry spotted them, he could hardly control himself. He wanted to stand up and cheer, but of course, that would have alerted the horses.

Harry watched on, hardly breathing as the horses drank for at least ten minutes to slack their thirst.

"They get real full of water, and then they're easier to catch, yeah?" asked Harry.

"How'd you know that?" Louis was surprised.

"Johnny told me how you catch them."

"Oh, okay. I wondered how you would know sommat like that."

Harry's breath hitched as he concentrated on a particular horse. "Did you see that paint one? The grey and white?" he asked, his voice almost reverent-sounding.

"No, let me look real quick," Louis took the binoculars away from Harry just long enough to spy the horse in question.

"Ah, yes!" he said as he handed the binoculars back to a Harry that was about ready to burst from excitement. "I remember him from last year. He was about two then. In the awkward stage. He's turned into a real beauty," Louis remarked. A real beauty was an understatement.

Through the binoculars Harry could see that the horse had one blue eye, and a jet black, extremely thick flowing mane and tail. His luxurious forelock covered most of his face. The rest of his body was spotted with large patches of grey and white. "He's magnificent!" cried Harry.

"Yeah, he's sommat, isn't he?'" agreed Louis. "I'd sure like to catch that one. You like him a lot?"

"Hell yes!" exclaimed Harry.

A thought came to Louis then. For just a second he was thinking that If Harry wanted the spotted horse, he would try his best to catch him for him. But then he cast the thought away just as quickly. Why had he thought that? Why would he catch a horse for Harry? Why was the thought already dominating his mind?

"By the way, spotted mustangs are known as pintos, not paints," Louis informed him, trying to get his mind off the prior disconcerting thought. "Paints have quarter horse blood—pintos don't."

"How tall would you say he is?" Harry was obviously head over heels for this young stallion, rushing headlong into getting as much information as he could.

"Oh, hard to say from here. He's not completely full grown yet either. Mustangs aren't generally as tall as domestic horses, but he's a little taller than most. Mustangs are unique. They're more sure footed than any equine except a mule, and they're unusually strong. They can carry heavy men. Look at his bulk. For a three year old, he's stocky. He's gonna be plenty big for anyone to ride. Maybe fifteen hands, I reckon."

Harry didn't ask any more, but he watched the horses' every step as the equines disappeared to the far side of the valley after they'd quenched their thirst.

Harry couldn't get Louis to indulge in much talk that night. They ate the second dinner Cookie had sent along after Louis retrieved it from the mini cellar. After heating it up, they dug into the tender baked pork chops, rice, asparagus and tapioca pudding for dessert.

Getting into bed was a painful process for Louis, as he wanted with a desperateness to snuggle up to Harry, but he knew he didn't dare. If he did, he'd end up kissing him, and he knew his self- control would certainly take a beating. Harry needed to be protected—from him. Little did he know, Harry was fighting a similar battle within himself.

Louis wasn't surprised in the least to find Harry gone from the bed and outside, looking out over the valley through the binoculars at dawn. In fact, he'd expected it.

"See your horse yet?" he asked as he approached Harry.

"Oh, the pinto? No, haven't seen any of them," Harry answered, his voice barely cloaking his disappointment.

"You'll see him when they come for water, don't worry."

After a quick breakfast, they headed to the creek again to wash. They always washed with their underwear on, cleaning themselves discreetly on the sly when the other wasn't looking, even though they'd seen each other naked that night they'd washed themselves in the rain. It was a precious memory for the both of them, though they never spoke of it.

"Want fish for dinner tonight?" asked Louis.

"Are there fish in here?" Harry looked around, not having seen any yet.

"Yeah, I'll show you where they are. The type of fish I usually eat here don't always like the moving water, depending on the time of year, and they hang around quiet pools that branch off this creek this time of year."

"What kind are they?"

"Spotted bass. Best known as 'crappie.' They make good fillets. Some people don't like the taste, but I do."

"I'd like to try them."

"Okay, well, let's see if we can catch some for tonight's dinner after we're done here."

"Wait, don't we need that sun block stuff? You know, the kind that looks like lotion. The lotion you use at the ocean. Hey, that rhymed!" Harry looked very pleased with himself. Louis shook his head. Harry loved to tell really lame jokes, and make things rhyme too. He was still such an enigma to Louis. Goofy, funny, innocent, sweet and shy. A cornucopia of extraordinary surprises.

I get tan, I don't burn. You, on the other hand, will probably burn before you tan. Here, I'll smear some mud on your face and shoulders to make sure that doesn't happen."

Harry ducked, but Louis, armed with a handful of mud, was too quick for him. He effectively held Harry with one hand and slathered the mud freely on Harry's shoulders, forehead, cheeks, nose and chin with the other.

"I just washed!" protested Harry.

"You can wash it off before we go back to the cabin. It isn't as if it's all over your body," was Louis' amused answer.

"Can you show me how to fish?" asked Harry.

Louis' eyes flashed with wariness. Was Harry trying to get him up close and cozy again? Louis really did need to steer clear of that.

"What? You haven't fished before?"

"No, me dad was gonna teach me, but then he got sick, and there wasn't enough time before he died."

Okay, so Harry had Louis feeling a little mournful for the curly haired lad.

They went back to the cabin and brought two of the rather crude fishing poles Louis had made himself back to the creek. The other hands had asked Louis why he didn't use store bought poles, but Louis had insisted he wanted to do things as primitively as possible when he was in the Apache Mountains. And he did—for the most part. The only thing he couldn't seem to do without was using fishing lures instead of bait, and the ranch hands had a field day with that. They reasoned that if he had handmade poles, he should also use bait. They found it comical that Louis was oddly inconsistent, and never let him live it down.

"That reminds me. Someone will be bringin' us more food tomorrow," he mentioned to Harry.

"I hope they remember to bring some of me other clothes. Nothin' I have matches," Harry pointed to his mismatched shirt and sweats with a good natured smile.

"You don't have to make a fashion statement out here, Styles. I doubt anyone will show up wanting a photo session."

"Well, at least some sweats that match would help. I don't need a three piece suit or anythin.'"

Louis had to laugh at that.

"Hopefully they'll remember. We're so isolated out here that I've never been able to get a signal on me cell phone, or I'd call them to remind them."

Harry felt prickles and tingles zigzag up and down his spine with the mere thought that he and Louis were many miles from any other human. No one could even reach them by phone. The thought caused his brain to go into overdrive, imagining the two of them doing whatever they wanted . . . alone . . .

 _No! Turn those thoughts off! Remember, long ago, Louis said that not even the thoughts were allowed. But then, he'd also said they couldn't be alone again, and yet, here they were . . ._

Forcing his mind back to fishing, Harry soaked up what Louis was teaching him about using the lures, and before long, they were sitting sit by side, waiting quietly and patiently for the fish to bite. They joked around, but in a hushed way so as not to spook the fish. Harry was enchanted with Louis' often sarcastic humor.

"The mud's cakin' and dryin' on your face," teased Louis as a piece of dried mud fell off Harry's chin and landed in his lap, as if to prove his point. Harry scrunched his face up.

"Lou, I wanna take it off now."

"Okay, you can take it off as soon as we have some fish. If you disturb the water now, we won't _get_ any fish."

So Harry waited, the tacky mud sticking and making his face itch. It paid off because they caught three fish, one of which Harry had snagged, and it tallied up to nearly three pounds of meat. Harry had been ecstatic, nearly losing his pole in his excitement when it had tugged his line. Louis's steady hands, however, circling around him from behind and guiding him as he reeled the fish in, saved the day. Harry's eyes bulged at the ten inch fish he'd caught. He felt a little sorry for it, however, as Louis dumped it into the bag he'd brought from the cabin.

"Not bad. More than enough for dinner, and tomorrow too, if we feel like it. We can have instant rice with it and corn," announced Louis. "The rice'll be easy to prepare over the fire, and the corn is canned. We can have the rest of Cookie's bread too."

Harry's mouth watered when he thought of their tasty upcoming dinner. But not nearly as much as it watered when he thought of discovering delicious secrets when it came to Louis' body. He didn't know the first thing about that kind of stuff, but he'd sure like to find out.

"Hey," Louis murmured, close to Harry's ear, his breath ghosting over Harry's neck. Goose bumps rose on Harry's arms.

"What?" he asked.

"You did a good job catchin' that fish. Should be proud of yourself. I didn't think you'd catch anythin' on your first try." This made Harry glow with pride. And that made Louis marvel at his beauty, once again. A flushed Harry was the sexiest thing Louis had ever seen.

That evening they cooked the fish over the fire, and Harry was pleasantly surprised at the taste. It wasn't as good as salmon or trout or swordfish, and it was boney, but he still quite liked it.

"Right. That was really delicious," declared Louis as he sat back to rub his belly. They hadn't even finished half of the fish, even though they'd both been ravenous after their day of fishing. They were stuffed to the gills.

There seemed to be a shadow that hovered over Louis when he was not invested in the conversation, so Harry tried to keep him talking. And Louis thought it uncanny how Harry knew when his thoughts shifted to anything other than the current subject. When that happened, Harry would calmly direct him back to the present.

Still, unsettling thoughts continued to seep in, causing Louis to become distracted in his effort to stay focused on what Harry was saying. It wasn't that Harry didn't keep his interest—quite the opposite really, but he couldn't permit himself to concentrate too much on Harry because Harry was danger all over the place. At least to Louis he was. All Louis could think about was kissing him again . . .

"You're sort of a rebel, aren't you?" asked Harry.

Louis was taken aback for a second. He hadn't seen that one coming. Some of the strangest things would come tumbling from Harry's mouth, and at the oddest times.

"Well, I don't take any shit from anyone. I guess some people consider me a dick."

Harry remembered Louis making a similar statement once. "Oh, I don't think so. I think they respect you."

"I'm not talkin' about the people on the ranch, but maybe some people in Pecos."

"I've never seen that. At the barn dance, everyone seemed to admire you."

Louis tried to ignore that comment, his cheeks feeling slightly warm.

"Yeah, I'm a rebel, yet tied to me father's legacy, so I guess I'm conflicted."

"So you don't want to be tied to his legacy?" Harry's eyes were questioning and full of interest.

"Oh, yeah. Of course I do. But there's a certain . . . wildness in me, I guess you'd say. Moreso than me dad ever was. I guess I'm a bit of a rogue."

"Tell me about the wildness," Harry shifted his weight to get more comfortable as they sat before the valley, gazing down on it. Harry's eyes were now fixed on Louis' face.

Louis thought about the strict, torturous rules he'd set for himself. Then he thought about his attraction to Harry. Where the former was concerned, he was disciplined, but with the latter, he was a different man. A man full of unquenched desires. But he couldn't tell Harry that.

"Hey, it's about time to keep an eye out for those mustangs," Louis tried to divert Harry from this subject that was beginning to make him feel unsettled. "They're later today for their drink."

"You're avoidin' me again," Harry said almost mournfully.

Louis sighed, recalling just how tenacious Harry could be when he wanted to know something.

"Okay, the wildness—the feral part of me, is, uh, hidden a lot of the time. I've been bottlin' things up for too long." As he talked, Louis tried not to recoil from Harry, but merely talking about these things was making him feel terribly vulnerable. The crushing loneliness he'd put up with for so long . . . feeling so lost.

"Look, let's not get into this right now. You'll miss the mustangs if we don't keep an eye out for them," and Louis raised the binoculars to his eyes, dismissing Harry's questions as if it didn't matter a whit to him.

"But you can't deny what's between us, can you?" Harry's direct question made Louis shiver a little, and he tried, unsuccessfully to use avoidance.

He slid his butt a little farther away from Harry, his heart picked up its pace and he felt trapped, suffocated, even though he desperately wanted to be open with Harry.

Harry was, for all intents and purposes, forcing him to talk. "I've been holdin' meself back," Louis answered. "For a very long time."

Harry looked puzzled. "From what?"

" _For God's sake, Harry. You!_ Don't you know?" Louis was becoming exasperated.

Harry's throat constricted, realizing Louis was finally admitting . . . what? That he wanted him physically, or something else? Something more along emotional lines? Romantically, or just having to do with lust? The one-night kind of thing? Or something more lasting? Louis didn't impress him as the emotional, sensitive type, and Harry was afraid to ask, so he didn't.

"Bloody hell, there's the mustangs," announced Louis, handing the binoculars back to the younger man, grateful for the diversion the mustangs brought.

Harry, still stunned and speechless as a result of Louis' words, tried to focus his eyes, but they did nothing but blur. He couldn't make out the horses. They looked like blobs, moving along. His mind worked frantically, trying to figure out just where Louis stood with his feelings.

 _He'd been holding himself back?_

The boss man, with his stringent, uncompromising requirements and rules had been trying to thwart his feelings for Harry? The man was good . . . really good at cloaking his true self if this was the case.

All along, Louis had been putting on an act when in Harry's presence. He'd only given in to his desire on that trail ride they'd had, and in the line shack. And that had been only to kiss Harry.

"See him? See the young stallion?" asked Louis, but his voice sounded miles away to Harry.

"Not sure. I want to see him but I'm . . . how do I say it? Overcome. We need to talk." Harry lowered the binoculars and peered straight into Louis' azure blue eyes.

Caution ruling him, Louis cast those suspicious eyes on Harry.

"What about?"

"You know what about. What were we just discussin?'" Assertive Harry was bobbing to the surface again.

"Fookin' hell!"

Louis pushed himself up from the grass and stalked away. "I can't fookin' talk about it!" he yelled over his shoulder as he disappeared into the cabin.

Was Louis merely denying his feelings, or did it run a lot deeper? As he had in the past, Harry suspected it was a lot more tricky and problematic than he would expect. Something was poking a very painful thorn in Louis' side. And it was festering. And Harry, by God, was going to find out what it was.


	38. Chapter 38

Louis left the cabin soon after, just as dusk settled around them. Harry watched him strut with purpose and resolve, as if he was bound and determined to outrun his own feelings.

 _That's what Harry wanted to believe; it couldn't true though, because Louis obviously didn't want him_. Well, that shouldn't shock him. What did he expect? Harry was a nobody, and Louis was a successful rancher. Harry shouldn't get in his way—impede him. Besides that, Harry reckoned Louis would need a strong partner, one who was as self-assured as he himself was. And that was something that didn't come naturally to Harry. Harry felt weak, fragile and too passive.

Where was Louis going? Harry couldn't tamp down his inquisitive nature. In a few short seconds, he decided to follow the Doncaster man as he stalked quickly away, disappearing from sight almost immediately. Harry imagined him sulking and grumbling to himself, cussing Harry out under his breath.

Harry hated discord, and wished he hadn't been so pushy, pressuring Louis the way he had. As Harry continued to trek after Louis, he noticed how quickly it was getting dark. Soon, it was hard to make out the path ahead of him. Now and then he'd hear what he thought were Louis' footsteps somewhere ahead of him, but with the strange way sound carried out here, he wasn't sure if the rancher was a distance away, or right in front of him.

Suddenly, it was as if the ground suddenly dropped out from under him. It felt somewhat like when he and Saber had somersaulted, but on a horse, he knew he only had about five feet to fall. In this case, he had no idea how far he was going to plummet. He realized, too late, that he'd probably gotten too close to the edge, where the ground sloped down to the valley. But he also knew there were places that were anything but sloping. They were steep drop-offs, and Louis had warned him about them. He'd had his mind on Louis, and with the gathering darkness, hadn't been paying close enough attention.

Nope, this one wasn't gently sloping, where he would simply roll downhill, and his worst fears were confirmed when he hit something with a jolt. He sensed the object was all that stood between himself and a horrendous fall. If he was indeed at a steep drop-off, he could fall all the way to the bottom of the valley, and he doubted he'd survive a fall of that distance.

Dizzy with fear and gasping, he grasped the object with both hands as his feet swung in mid-air. "Louis!" he screamed as loudly as he could. Panic overtook him. This might well be the end. And all because he'd made a stupid mistake by following Louis, who knew this area a hell of a lot better than he did; instead of waiting for Louis to return to the cabin. And furthermore, in the dark!

Harry was deathly afraid to move a muscle. He tried to control his panicked breathing, but his lungs felt like he'd sprinted a hundred yards. He hung on with a fierce tenacity, praying Louis was near enough to hear him. He feared that just the slight movement required to yell out again might be all it took for whatever he held on to, to break away, and down he would tumble to his death.

He heard a crack, which caused him to flinch and gasp, and realized that whatever he clung to was giving way. It was probably a thick branch of a vine, root, or something of the sort, sticking out of the edge of the drop-off. No way of telling when it would break loose. A fresh curl of adrenaline unfurled in his belly, and made his panic grow ever worse. Louis wasn't coming. He would have been here by now. But then, how would Louis find him, as it was almost completely dark now? If Louis _had_ heard him, he would have answered. Man, he was screwed!

A firm, solid grasp closed around one of his wrists.

"Harry, hold on!" _Thank God._ Louis had found him. How he had managed it, Harry hadn't a clue, but he'd never been more grateful in his life.

"I am, but I think it's gonna break loose any second!" Harry cried.

Louis took a deep breath. "Give me both your hands," he instructed. "I have ahold of this one. Now give me your other one."

"I can't! I'll fall!" Harry clenched his jaw in mortal fear. He was afraid of heights, and he tried not to imagine how far below him solid ground was. Too far.

"Harry!" commanded Louis. "Trust me! Give me both your hands! I'll pull you up!"

Harry didn't think Louis could do it. He was dead weight, and Louis would have to hoist him up over the side of the cliff. Louis was strong, but was he _that_ strong? The odds . . . what were the odds? Harry had his doubts. And he didn't want to let go of whatever he clutched because he was afraid he'd pull Louis over the edge, and then _both_ of them would die.

Another slight snap, and Harry knew the thing he was holding onto was getting ever closer to breaking away.

"Harry! Both your hands! Give them to me _! NOW_!" Harry heard the tremor of panic in Louis' voice just under the surface of the demanding tone, and somehow he knew that Louis was panicked _for him._

Somehow, that gave him the strength to let go of the object and take Louis' other hand. He couldn't disappoint Louis by wimping out. This was going to be hard enough on his boss as it was.

"Relax, Harry. I'm pullin' you up now. Don't move—just let me pull you up."

Harry listened to Louis. He had to trust him. And if they both fell, then there was nothing he could do now.

Louis leaned back, braced himself and began easing Harry up. Harry heard his heavy breaths, his grunts to pull up a man who weighed about the same as he did.

Up a little more. Inch by agonizing inch, Harry felt himself being lifted. But when would Louis' strength give out? He could lose his grip on Harry's hands at any second, because Harry felt the moistness of the sweat of labor in Louis' palms, and their fingers were sliding apart by fractions of an inch.

It wouldn't take long for their grip to be lost. And Harry knew in his heart that Louis wouldn't let go even if that happened. Even if they only had each other's fingertips, Louis would keep trying. More grunting, a few swear words, and Harry suddenly felt solid ground under his body. He quickly rolled toward Louis' legs, which he could make out in the dark. Away from the side of the cliff.

For a few moments of hard breathing, Harry lay there on his belly, in shock.

Louis forced himself to speak as he gasped for breath. "It's okay, Haz. You're safe now. Just don't move, _please."_ As Louis got his breath back, Harry tried to look at his boss, but darkness had enveloped him.

A couple of minutes went by, Louis' hand clamped onto Harry's wrist as if he were afraid Harry would get away and end up in the same predicament.

"Get up, Harry. Slowly. You're only about eighteen inches from the edge. Get up, and let's move back from the edge a little more."

Harry did as he was told. When they were safely a few feet away, they dropped to the ground again, both of them in semi-shock.

 _That had been a close one._

Harry, his voice quivering, murmured softly. "You saved me life, Lou. Thank you," Harry was surprised he had a voice. He was in complete awe of his boss.

"What the fuck were you doin' out here in the dark anyway?" was Louis' reply.

"Lookin' for you."

"You knew I'd be back."

"Yeah, but . . . I guess . . .I was concerned because I pushed you too much to talk when you didn't want to. Man, you really _are_ Superman."

There was a bewildered silence. A moment later, "No I'm not. You're just lucky I'm really familiar with this area. I've hiked all over this place. You picked one of the worst places to almost fall off a cliff."

 _The story of his life._ All his life, Harry had managed to get himself into deep shit without even trying to. The tripping and falling, getting lost, and now, almost getting himself killed. And almost taking Louis along with him.

"Let's go back to the cabin. I think that was enough excitement to do us for a while." Louis' voice was unnaturally husky, but Harry couldn't see his face to try to examine his emotional state.

Louis kept Harry close by his side on the way back to the cabin, placing himself between Harry and the edge of the drop-off. He wasn't taking any more chances. Harry didn't realize how far he'd traveled, looking for Lou. It turned out to be over a mile.

As they finally reached the cabin, Louis ushered Harry inside and lit a lantern. Then he sat on the edge of the bed.

"We'll talk now. I had a chance to think about it when I was walkin' out there, and I haven't been exactly . . . fair to you. I need . . . I guess I need to tell someone how things have . . . escalated with me." Louis' voice was now becoming scratchy and raw, his eyes flitting here and there, never settling on anything for long.

Harry was perplexed. What was escalating with Louis? He stayed silent though, sensing that Louis had to do most of the talking. What people called _venting._

"Me dad . . . me dad expected a lot from me. You see, he was groomin' me to take over the ranch when we moved here. When he first started to get sick, he knew I'd be takin' over soon, and he wanted me to run it just like him. Run it when he was gone. He said I'd have to learn to be in charge, that I could work alongside Johnny. That I could learn a lot from Johnny, but ultimately, I'd have to do it meself. Hire, fire, direct. Make all the big decisions.

"When me dad died, I knew what me destiny was, of course—to run the ranch, but I didn't know if I was made of the same stuff me dad was. After a couple of years, the pressure got worse. I'm not like him . . ." Louis faltered.

Harry struggled to process all of this, and at the same time, figure out what Louis was _really_ saying. There must be an underlying message, but it was beyond him. He felt helpless, and to be honest, a little dim-witted because he wasn't clever enough to decode what Louis was trying to convey.

"How are you not like him?" he asked when Louis grew silent and looked on the mournful side.

At Harry's words, Louis' eyes showed fear in the flicker of the lantern and the dying fire. He got up and paced. It was as if he was putting off saying the inevitable—whatever the inevitable was.

Sitting back down on the edge of the bed, he leaned over, putting his head in his hands, elbows on knees, and then covered his face with his palms. This was serious. Harry sensed real ambivalence in his boss. Louis looked like his thoughts were swaying back and forth, as if he was trying to decide what to tell Harry, and what not to tell him.

"Harry, if you . . . only knew," Louis' voice was weak and plaintive, and Harry's breath got caught up in his throat, never having heard Louis sound so tentative, so powerless.

Harry instinctively closed the distance between them, sliding to sit closer to Louis, and put his arm around his shoulder.

"You can tell me. I won't tell anyone. I promise."

Louis' breathing was shaky. "I can't though . . . I can't say the words," Harry's perceptiveness picked up all the trauma to Louis' emotions, and it killed him to see the man he'd always known as nothing but strong and robust reduced to this point.

 _Louis needed him, and Harry would be there for him. No matter what it was Louis had to say._

"I'd never judge you, if that is stoppin' you from tellin' me," he said, carefully choosing his words.

"I know . . . I know you won't. You're the only one I feel I can tell this to. You see, I was never good enough . . . " Louis' shoulders started to shake, and Harry realized with shock that he was crying. Holding the sobs inside, but crying just the same. Harry was so stunned that he just watched Louis' face, which was uncovered now. The tears streamed freely down his cheeks, splattering down steadily.

Louis covered his face again, and Harry took the initiative to pull Louis' hands away from his face. Louis didn't yank away or fight it. He was shockingly compliant. He gathered and steadied himself, trying to stem the flow of tears.

"Tell me . . . tell me how you weren't good enough," coaxed Harry softly, in his quiet, deep, comforting voice.

"Me dad . . . he was hard on himself . . . never cut himself any slack, nor anyone else either for that matter. He had no tolerance for anythin' substandard. He was a tough man, who worked himself into the ground. He hated any kind of weakness . . . he hated gay people too." At this admission, Louis began sobbing again.

"Oh Lou . . . " Harry crooned softly, pulling the man into his shoulder. It shocked Harry when Louis gave to the pressure, using Harry to collapse against.

"No matter what I did, it was never good enough. I couldn't measure up to him. He rarely praised me. It was always 'try a little harder, Louis. You can never try hard enough.'"

Harry reflected on how hard Louis worked, how he'd witnessed it daily. No wonder Louis appeared to be so calloused mentally as well as physically! He drove himself, remembering his father's words, and thinking he'd never be good enough, fast enough, determined enough to fill his father's shoes.

And the gay part . . . Louis had cleverly inserted it in the middle of his confession, putting layers of other things around it, being careful not to make it look like it stood out, or had the most impact, but Harry knew better.

Louis had kissed him. Louis was gay. He had admitted to no interest in women. And Louis had been exposed to a homophobic all his life. The guilt! Louis had been living for a long time with tremendous guilt for being gay.

Now Harry understood every bit of it. In the midst of trying to live up to his father's legacy, Louis felt he couldn't ever be good enough because he was gay. No matter what he did, no matter how hard he tried, Louis could never be the man his father wanted him to be.

"Normal. I'm not normal," Louis whispered raggedly. This brought on a fresh round of sobs. They weren't completely silent now. They were soft and sweet as he buried his head in Harry's chest, letting it all out. Harry simply stroked Louis' head and soft hair with his big, gentle hands and let him cry. This had obviously been a long, long time in coming. Louis had needed someone's shoulder to cry on—literally and figuratively since his father had died. And who knows for how long before? He'd held it in all this time. And Harry was more than willing to allow him to cry and vent as long as Louis wanted or needed to. And he did—Louis cried for what seemed like a long time, although Harry wasn't keeping track. The most important thing was that Louis got it out of his system as much as possible.

The silence closed in except for the quiet sobs that remained until they petered out. Harry grabbed the opportunity to try to reassure Louis.

"And what's normal?" he teased softly, reminding Louis of their running joke about what normal really was. Pointing out to him that It was only an opinion, depending on who you talked to.

"Your dad was very conservative," he said. "Doesn't mean he was wrong, because it's what he believed in—his dad was probably the same way, yeah? So it was all he knew. But it doesn't mean he was right about everythin' either."

Harry let that sink in, and Louis reflected that his grandfather had, indeed, been just like his father. Harry could actually see Louis soaking up, absorbing the significance of his words.

Louis finally met Harry's eyes for the first time since they'd come in and sat on the bed. He grabbed a tissue from a drawer in the nightstand and wiped his eyes and blew his nose, grinning shyly at Harry. How long had it been since he'd cried in front another person? Probably not since he was about ten years old! It had been so deeply ingrained in him to have a stiff upper lip, suck it up, and never appear weak to anyone. That thought made this experience even more surreal.

"God . . . I'm so embarrassed, Hazza. I've never, ever told anyone . . . the stuff I just told you," he confessed, careful to keep constant eye contact because Harry seemed to need it—even thrive on it. "But you know what? I feel about one thousand pounds lighter. You were the right one to talk to, and you're here for me without judgin' me or tellin' me I'm wrong and me dad was right. That's what I was most afraid of when I decided to tell you."

Harry drew a fortifying breath and began to tell Louis how he saw things. "I don't as a general rule, judge people anyway. But I'm payin' close attention to everythin' you said just now, and you know, it all boils down to you bein' your own person. You aren't your father. You can love him, and his memory, and respect him, but don't make unrealistic demands on yourself. Nothin' wrong with bein' gay. Nothin' at all."

Was this the same docile, almost meek Harry that Louis had hired? Louis felt nothing in this moment but pride. Pride for the awkward, clumsy, shy youth that had risked everything and had come to his ranch to get a job. And had stubbornly stuck to it, basically forcing Louis to hire him. As tough as it had been, he'd succeeded, and gone on to prove how worthy he was. Harry had moxie, and a lot of initiative. He was a great worker as well as a great friend. A friend Louis could confide in. And, somewhere during the last five months or so, Harry had become a man.


	39. Chapter 39

They sat there, not a word shared between them for an interminable amount of time. Harry struggled to find words of consolation, but they dried up on his tongue, nothing seeming appropriate or noteworthy enough for the circumstances. He knew Louis was taking a truly giant step in confiding in him, and he felt honored, but yet he worried for Louis' state of mind.

The embarrassment had passed over for Louis. All he felt now was consolation and comfort and tremendous relief that it was now all out in the open. He had told Harry the entire story, and it felt pretty damn good.

He wanted to tell Harry of his feelings, but wasn't quite sure how to go about it. He decided the direct approach was best.

"I like you, Harry. I'm . . . fond of you. But I feel it's not right. There's sommat . . . wrong with me."

Harry was impressed by the baldness in Louis' statement. The raw, unconcealed truth he was admitting to was something Harry thought he'd never see in Louis. He hadn't thought the man had it in him to put everything out there on the table; no screen, no veil. None of the rough, rugged exterior remained. Only vulnerability; only undisguised exposure and softness. And acceptance. Finally, acceptance in the fact that he was gay. But he still felt it was wrong.

"Rubbish. There's nothin' wrong with you."

"How did you come to terms with it so easily . . . being gay?" asked Louis. He implored Harry with Tahitian blue eyes that captivated Harry so thoroughly that he could hardly focus on what he was trying to say. Those eyes nearly hypnotized him.

Harry shrugged. "It was hard . . . for a while. But I finally came to terms with it. It's just a fact, that's all. And by the way, I like you too." Harry grinned, his dimples barely peeking out.

Louis' heart skipped when Harry smiled. You'd think he'd be immune to it by now. But the effect was strong as ever, if not even stronger.

"Does your mum know?" he asked.

Harry shook his head. "No one but Audrey and you."

"Do you still get that restless yearning?" asked Louis.

Harry looked pensive. He hadn't thought of it lately, but it seemed the restless yearning had dissolved some time ago.

"No . . . no, I don't. In fact, I think of this place as . . . _home."_

Was anyone else in this world was as honest as Harry? Louis marveled at it, as he'd done a thousand times before. Right now Harry's luminous eyes of bottomless green were sparkling with hope. The air was crackling between them. Louis knew what was on Harry's mind—it was on his mind too. Always.

Louis tried to process all this, but it was still out of reach. The fact that he was attracted to a man—wanted a man, needed a man was difficult to digest. And to top it all, that man was Harry.

"Well, happy times," said Louis, trying to make light of things because he felt so terribly vulnerable right now. Harry moved a touch closer to him, and Louis' engine roared to life. Just that quick, just that strong.

Uh-oh. As is often the case when a life-threatening incident occurs, the relief that is experienced afterward often brings on strong emotions. And to add to that, Louis had spilled his heart out to Harry tonight. It was all exhausting, but freeing too. Liberating for Louis because he didn't have to live with his secret anymore. It exhilarated him, in fact. And that brought danger with it.

Heat was rising in his chest, and he turned to Harry, taking his boots off and slowly, oh so slowly, wrapping his arms around the Cheshire lad.

Harry struggled to regain the previous warmth, the surface of which he suspected he'd only begun to skim, but he had to take his boots off as well. Louis did it for him, seeing as Harry was wrestling with the task. They would have giggled if they hadn't been so ablaze with desire for each other.

"But . . . but, do you really care for me, Boo?" asked Harry. Louis decided he'd just go with the nickname and not make an issue of it—as long as Harry kept it private, between them only.

"What do you mean?" Louis rasped, hardly able to form words. "Yes, I do. But . . . using you," he shook his head with conviction. "That's not me vibe." He had a feeling that was what Harry was hinting at—wanting to know exactly where Louis' head was at.

The rough breathing ensued, the kissing being passionate right from the genesis of their commencement after the boots were off. Harry was relaxing more. He was practically a rag doll in Louis' arms, and Louis knew he wouldn't shrink away. But he himself _did_ hesitate mightily at the thought of taking Harry's virginity. If there was any chance Harry might find happiness with a woman, Louis wanted to let him have that opportunity.

"I have to be sure . . . that you really want this," murmured Louis, "That I'm not corruptin' you."

Harry smiled and those damned dimples did a huge number on Louis' self -control. They always had. What little self-control he had left, that was.

"Stop bein' so damn cute and sweet. It's slowly killin' me. You've been killin' me since the first day I saw you at the Jubilee."

"Really? I had no idea, but same here. You know, I followed you all over that place," Harry blushed in spite of himself.

"You did?" Louis was nonplussed.

"Yeah . . .like, I can tell you everythin' you did in the time I was there."

Louis shook his head. "And then I go and make an arse of meself by gettin' thrown by me horse the first time you came to the ranch."

"I didn't think any less of you," said Harry, and Louis saw he was sincere. Harry had better not ever lie to him, because he'd see it straightaway.

"I thought you were adventurous and daring," Harry went on to say.

"Stupid is more like it," countered Louis.

"I didn't see it that way. You have the spark, that gumption, and I really admire it."

Louis kissed him again, about ninety-five percent because he wanted to, and five percent to make the lad stop dishing out the compliments.

Harry was astonished. He had never known the power kissing could have before. If kissing Louis felt this good, how good would doing other things with Louis be? But he was afraid to think along those lines. On the one hand, he was titillated, and on the other hand he was a little bit frightened. Or perhaps more than a little . . .

The things Louis' mouth did to his! It made him want to do _something,_ but he didn't quite know what it might be. The urge to literally attack Louis was dominating his thoughts. This resulted in frustration mixed with a passion that eclipsed anything Harry had ever felt before. The only thing keeping Harry from completely freaking out from the feeling was the fact that he knew Louis, also, had never been with a man.

As for Louis, Harry set him back on his heels. The lad was unrivaled in the looks department. But he also displayed the sweetness that had enraptured Louis almost from the start. The combination was too good to be real, and yet it _was_ real. Louis now realized he hadn't really known himself for the longest time, but somehow, Harry was grounding him—forcing him to develop introspection.

Louis was take-charge without being overbearing. He took great pains to not discourage Harry, not make him feel pressed in any possible fashion. He had to keep reining himself in, reminding himself that, while he, Louis, had at least had sex with _women,_ Harry hadn't had sex with _anyone,_ period. And this would require a whole lot of self-restraint on Louis' part. Harry's whole life could be affected, and a bad experience could ruin everything for him in a heartbeat. Especially considering he was gay. That was enough of a burden to carry in and of itself.

So Louis paced himself, trying not to let the tiger in himself tear free of its leash. He kissed Harry slowly—not allowing his ardor to take control. It was hard; the hardest thing Louis had ever done except for maybe losing his parents. His body and mind told him to let his passion flow, let loose. But he knew that would be a grave mistake. He could scare Harry so badly that he could lose him forever.

He was going to use as much patience and understanding as it took. He had oodles of compassion stored up, and Harry deserved no less. He was going to show Harry a side of him that no one had ever seen before.

A deep loneliness had taken root inside Louis, and he hadn't realized how much it had shaped him. It had made him into a cynic with a heart as hard and cold as marble. He hadn't felt this kind of attentive tenderness with anyone, and his protective instincts sparked with a glaring brightness when he so much as thought about Harry.

Louis breath was rough, labored, and he pulled his mouth away from Harry's. Good Lord, but he was practically panting!

"What's wrong?" asked Harry, the darkness of worry threatening to take over his expression, his own breath rough and quick.

"I. . . I almost lost me shit."

Harry's inquisitive look ensnared Louis' eyes.

"I tend to get carried away when it comes to you," explained Louis, seeing Harry's flustered air.

"Promise me you'll stop blowin' a gasket," Harry pled. "The way you touch me, the way you're different when we're alone. I feel so . . . hand-picked by you."

Louis chuckled. Harry sometimes came up with the most outlandish expressions. "That's exactly what you are. You're unique, exquisite, and a prize. Don't get me wrong—I don't see you as sommat that is sought after, even though you are. That isn't why I want you. You aren't a possession. You're me choice, a limited edition. So limited that there's only one of you. No one else could take your place."

The raw honesty Louis was allowing to seep over him had Harry basking in these kind words—things he only expected to hear from his mother or sister.

"I can't believe you're even interested in me," he stressed. "I'm not as strong, brave, determined or assertive as you are. I don't have a fightin' chance to be like that. It's not integral to me as it is to you."

"You showed a lot of bravery tonight, Styles. Don't underestimate yourself. When you let go of the plant, or root, or whatever it was, to give me your hand, you showed grit that most people don't have."

"I trust you," Harry said simply and baldly.

"And it takes bravery to trust someone, _anyone_ that much."

"You're probably the only person I know I'd trust that much besides me mum."

Louis' chest filled with pride. How Harry had held it together during those few seconds of extreme fright and possible imminent death confounded him.

"Are you quite finished now? Because I'd like to . . . kiss you again," Louis stammered.

Harry snaked his arms around Louis' torso, just as if they were lovers and he'd been doing it for years. Things were becoming easier between them. It was palpable. Louis was actually beginning to feel comfortable, and not as guilt-ridden. Affection came very naturally to Harry, which made it so much easier for him to return it. When that affection was directed at Louis, the world seemed to quake beneath them, In fact, Louis felt as if he _owned_ the world.

They kissed for a very long time. Louis had to exert himself to hold back, but he found himself sucking Harry's tongue, and that caused Harry to emit a throaty, carnal groan. That was nearly the death of Louis, who tried to gain a grip on his raging libido. There was no end in sight when it came to his hunger for Harry, it being present every minute of the day.

The taste of Louis—Harry wanted it all the time. Even when they'd stopped kissing for only a few minutes. He couldn't get enough of the tan muscled rancher who had stolen his heart these past few months. And now he was free to show his affection instead of keeping it hidden day in and day out. At least for now. . .

Reaching the hem of Louis' sweatshirt, Harry eased his hands under it, at the bottom, rubbing the small of his back.

"Damn . . . " groaned Louis. "A man can only take so much." Not even a bit of his ardor for Harry had diminished, even when they had not been touching, but only talking. Harry couldn't possibly know how much torment this was causing Louis, and he wanted to tell him how much he wanted more . . . but for one thing, he hadn't a clue as to what he should do, and for another thing, they were both virgins . . . with men.

Dipping into that degree of involvement was over both of their heads, and Louis knew it.

"You can't take anymore?" Harry's green eyes widened. "Am I too pushy?"

"No, of course not, you wanker," Louis teased. "You're turnin' me on is all."

Harry nearly purred in his pleasure at hearing this.

"I need to feel your bare chest," Harry murmured. Louis' cock jerked and twitched, betraying him in its eagerness. It made Louis remember the day they'd gone on the trail ride and he'd explored and kissed Harry's chest. He wanted it for himself now. He wanted to feel it . . . .feel what Harry had felt that day.

Harry's hands trembled, and he swallowed with effort. He couldn't do this alone. He needed Louis' help. He moaned softly, bringing his hand from Louis' back around to the front, still down low, at the hem of Louis' shirt. But he couldn't muster the pluck to do anything more.

They were still sitting, Louis' chest heaving now. The feel of his skin made Harry's fingers tingle as if a current was going back and forth between them. All the passion, emotion, and desire were in his fingertips, which took on a life of their own. He wanted to explore, and brushed Louis' stomach lightly, with not much more pressure than a feather.

Louis thought he was surely going to come unhinged if this continued. Harry, however, had run out of valor. His inexperience, his shyness, his timidity were restricting him, paralyzing him.

 _What if he made a wrong move?_ Harry hadn't the faintest idea what he was doing.

Louis, however, saved the day. Isn't that what Superman does, anyway? He snatched his shirt from the bottom and pulled it over his head, grabbing Harry's shirt and doing the same almost before Harry could blink an eye. He did it so swiftly, so fluidly that Harry mistook it for confidence. It was anything but. Louis was just as nervous as Harry was, and the only way he could mobilize himself was to do it quickly, without hesitation. He had to help Harry, who was quivering and faltering. He had to guide him in the right direction, although he himself didn't have a clue how to proceed. This was like feeling around in the dark . . .

Louis did know one thing though. Things would move slowly and naturally if he was heedful enough, and Harry would be protected from becoming overly alarmed. Any other way was not acceptable. Louis thought of this as more of a slow dance than a race.

Louis laid back on the bed, concentrating on trying to look as mellow and informal as possible. Wanting Harry to feel no pressure, for there was no obligation for him to do anything.

 _Just be._ Louis willed this silently to Harry, wanting him at ease and feeling free to just be himself.

Harry must have sensed Louis' lowered energy, and maybe his gentle coaxing without the man having to touch him or utter a word. Harry lay down beside Louis, tentatively resting his head on Louis' chest. He stayed there some minutes, physically unable to move or speak. Feeling immobilized. Louis snaked his hand around to Harry's back and petted it as if Harry was an easily startled animal that needed to be subdued in the most passive way possible. He remained low key; almost languid in the lazy movement of his hand and fingers.

Harry began to warm to him, his desire beginning to override his caution and apprehension once again. Slowly, ever so slowly, Harry raised up on his elbow so he was above Louis, and buried his face in Louis' neck, breathing him in, nuzzling.

Louis was afraid he might come just from this. Harry's searching mouth on his neck, kissing it.  
Eventually Harry worked up the courage to suck up and down Louis' neck and shoulder until Louis felt goose bumps raising the hairs on his arms. Harry had to hear his labored breathing.

Then Harry started to lick, and Louis didn't know how much worse (or rather better) it could get. He was losing all control, and yet he was just lying underneath Harry, at his mercy, and that thought all by itself was enough to render him blissfully weak and helpless. He didn't _want_ to fight the feeling.

Never, even in his dreams, had he imagined Harry's mouth could be this sensual. His breath coming in short gasps now, Louis surrendered. He didn't question anything—he just gave himself permission to feel . . . and savor.

Harry, still timorous and halting, managed to begin kissing Louis' upper chest, at his collar bone.

"Feels good Hazza. Don't stop," Louis said to encourage the younger man. The raspy tone of his voice was more pronounced than Harry had ever heard it. Harry dropped his head lower, and in the next instant, Louis felt his mouth hovering over a nipple. Harry's breath ghosted and chilled and warmed as Louis' anticipation rose to new heights. He must have been holding his breath, because when Harry's tongue at last laved his nipple, Louis suddenly felt starved for air. His breathing came fast and harsh again, and he shocked himself when he curved his spine slightly, raising his chest, silently urging Harry on.

Inspired, Harry took Louis' nipple into his mouth and sucked, causing his willing victim to gasp out loud. Soon after, Harry pulled his mouth off and pinched the erect nub with thumb and forefinger, rolling it and making Louis nearly break into pieces. Then he began licking it again. He wasn't in a hurry, and he wanted Louis to feel as good as possible. This was working beautifully, so he continued.

Louis almost protested aloud when Harry broke contact; but then he moved to the other nipple, stimulating it in the same manner. Louis was hardly able to keep still at times, and at other times all he could do was lie there, completely quiet, not able to do anything but relish the intense pleasure.

Harry was ecstatic at Louis' reaction, and amazed at his _own_ reaction. The ardor flooded over him like a fast moving river. He was being dragged downstream with nothing to hold onto and an undeniable desire kept thrumming in his veins. A desire with nowhere to go. Never ceasing in its intensity. Orgasm was not far off, and all he'd done was to kiss Louis' chest!

The look of uncertainty in Harry's eyes was not lost on Louis. Harry didn't know what to do with the pulsing sensations. The curly bundle of sweetness and innocence was no doubt petrified of this powerful passion that threatened to drown them both. Louis knew he needed to have mercy on him, even though the urge to ravish him was prominent.

"We'll just lay here and . . . kiss," Louis said, stumbling over the words that were so foreign to him. "There's no requirement to do anything else. This is like a slow dance."

Harry smiled at that. What a pleasant, pleasure filled metaphor. _Like a slow dance._ There was a promise coming from Louis' mouth, a pledge, making Harry feel very safe. Harry knew Louis could be a rough person when life called for it. Very authoritative, assertive and masterful, But in bed with Harry, he magically transformed into essential tenderness. Someone Harry could lean on, communicate with. Harry needed this more than anything else in life.


	40. Chapter 40

Amidst all the kissing and heavy breathing, Louis began to grow agitated again. There was an air of restiveness about him.

Harry did his best to comfort him by wrapping his body around Louis.' Louis couldn't stop the smile that arose despite his best efforts to keep it under wraps. Harry continued to dazzle him at every turn. Still, he battled within himself.

"This is all kinds of fucked," Louis grumbled.

Harry had the most somber, sober look on his face as he said, "I'm takin' this seriously, Boo."

Wow. This was staggering for Louis. What was this turning into? He felt like turning tail and running. It spooked him . . . and it lured him. The desire for Harry crawled all over him.

Harry didn't want to prod Louis, but he was about as certain as he could be that Louis was struggling with his feelings. Harry knew that because he was in the same situation, even though he was generally much more accessible and true to himself.

"Remember," Harry continued. "I've never even been with a _girl."_

 _Yeah, must be extra hard for him,_ Louis pondered. At least he, himself had experience with women. Harry was completely pure. Pristine. And sincere, gazing intently into his eyes, making Louis feel like squirming. But he didn't. He did the right thing and looked right back at Harry staunchly.

Harry caressed Louis' coppery colored beard scruff with such tenderness that Louis had to jerk away from the intensity, desperate to stop the tug at his heart. This was a fuckin' roller coaster!

Tersely, he reminded Harry with a withering look that they shouldn't get sappy.

Harry just smiled, his dimples pulling Louis in yet again. He felt like a damn yo-yo! He didn't want to need Harry's attentions so badly, yet he couldn't keep away from him.

 _It wasn't just about sex._

That was the thing . . . even if he wanted to, he couldn't just have sex with Harry and be done with it. It didn't work that way with Harry. As far as Harry went, he was a goner. He cared way, way too much for him. He couldn't analyze his feelings beyond that. But he did know he could stay here for days, just kissing and holding Harry. He had never had the slightest urge to do that with a woman.

 _Admit it to yourself, Louis. You're as gay as the day is long._

It went against the grain so fiercely though. Visions of his father's grim, disapproving face flashed before him. He needed to be his own man, as Harry had said, and Louis agreed with that, but his father still had such a tight hold on him. After four and a half years, Louis had yet to break free of his father's influence, and he felt he couldn't be who he really was. He was in a bind that was crushing him.

Harry's fingertips traced random patterns all over Louis' neck, shoulders and chest. When those big hands reached Louis' belly, Louis couldn't catch his breath. But Harry wasn't as courageous as he was attempting to appear to be. Harry sighed in despair and frustration, unclear about what he was supposed to do, and what Louis wanted. He just wanted Louis to be happy, but he didn't know how to achieve that.

"Slow dance," Louis reminded him again. He was trying to get across to Harry that no one had anything to prove. He wanted Harry to follow his own words spoken just a little while ago. They just needed to be themselves. The rest would happen, or not happen, but it wouldn't be a result of any kind of pressure, no matter how slight. It would be consensual in the broadest sense of the word. They had to be of one mind, with no delusions or misconceptions. This was so important to Louis that it shook him to his core.

"How do you feel?" asked Harry, breaking the silence and stunning Louis.

"Wicked good," he answered, because it was the first thing that came to mind, and it was barefaced honest.

"Me too," Harry smiled. "Me too."

"Okay, little spoon. Let me be the big spoon," Louis suggested, waggling his eyebrows.

Harry hesitated for only a millisecond, then turned over onto his side, and Louis snuggled in close behind him. Louis took this opportunity, after Harry had settled for a minute, to reach around and feather his fingers on Harry's neck, chest and stomach, just as Harry had done to him.

He felt Harry shaking, his abdomen tightening.

""Ticklish?" asked Louis in a hushed, almost-whisper near Harry's ear.

"No . . . no, not at all," came the tentative answer. Louis smiled to himself. That was a good sign. The tightening of the belly muscles told him that Harry was digging this.

"You fancy it, then?"

Harry sighed and swallowed thickly. "Yeah," and that was all he could get past his lips.

Louis began to rub Harry's stomach now with slightly more pressure, and Harry's shaking became more pronounced. At this conjuncture, Louis realized neither one of them was prepared for anything more. That was alright. They had many days ahead of them, and to rush this would be a shame.

With great reluctance and massive willpower, Louis halted the movement of his hand that had been caressing Harry's belly.

"They'll be by with food tomorrow," he reminded Harry. "They might get here early. So maybe we should just go to sleep so we can be up when they get here," he said.

It couldn't be very late, but Harry refused to look at his watch. He did see the wisdom in Louis' words. He didn't want anyone to see them in bed together, but at the same time, he was bitterly disappointed. _Didn't Louis like kissing him?_

 _Bittersweet._ Sweet that he was in bed with Louis, but the whole thing tasted a little bitter because he didn't know how all this might end. In any case, he didn't want to let it go, or have to watch it fizzle out. He couldn't see his passion for Louis ever dying out, but he didn't know how Louis looked at this. This . . . . whatever they had . . .

Louis eased his body just a little bit closer so that they were touching everywhere, clear down to their feet. Harry shivered with a need that threatened to shatter him. Louis made it even worse when he entwined their ankles.

"Tommo the tease," mumbled Harry, feeling somewhat annoyed.

"What'd you say? Tommo the tease?"

"Yeah. You're a tease," pouted Harry.

Louis laughed, flipping Harry over so they were face to face.

"Clever, that. Tommo the tease. Sounds like a stripper's name, yeah?"

"I didn't mean it to be funny."

Louis went silent, his eyes inspecting Harry's. "You didn't?"

"No . . . you really _are_ a tease."

Louis loved the hell out of that. It meant Harry wanted more. And he felt desperate for more himself. But Louis also felt uneasy about it. He didn't want Harry to freak out on him. If that happened, he'd probably never get another chance with this beautiful man.

 _It was so much more than sex._

But he couldn't say that to Harry. Call him old fashioned, but _if_ and when it ever did happen, he wanted it to be as special as he could possibly make it. He wanted to win Harry over, heart and soul. He wanted Harry's heart, yes. Probably even more than he wanted the sex.

 _There_ , he'd permitted the thought to be realized. But no. He wouldn't, he _couldn't_ even think about anything like that! But then, he just had. He'd never held back on sex before. However, no one had meant anything to him. He was holding back now though, and there wasn't any other explanation for the way his heart leapt and pounded, his palms got sweaty, his gait would sometimes falter, and he'd been known to stammer in Harry's presence. Louis, the one who had an answer to anything, was the master of comebacks, sometimes had trouble forming words around Harry. It was unheard of.

Yeah, he guessed there was a sprinkling of love in there. Hell, he loved Johnny, Niall and the others too. You couldn't _not_ love them when they gave their all for you, were loyal as shit, made you laugh, cheered you up when you most needed it.

But he had to admit that with Harry . . . well, it was different. Not sure _how_ it was different, but it was.

"I don't wanna be a tease but . . . I'm scared of so much," Louis felt like this lame trail- off of his was a cop-out. But Harry seemed to understand. Harry to the rescue.

"Me too. I mean, you're me boss. Look at you, and look at me. No comparison."

Louis looked dumbfounded. "Haz, if you're sayin' what I think you're sayin,' you couldn't be more wrong. Do _not_ bash yourself like that. You've become a successful and very useful, hell, _invaluable_ ranch hand in just a few months. I've also heard you sing. You're seriously talented. So don't you go tellin' me you aren't special, because you are. I've told you how beautiful you are; I've seen both men and women gawk at you openly. But most important, you're sincere, faithful . . . "

"Don't flatter me, Lou." Harry looked downtrodden, even after the things Louis had just said. He really didn't get it! Louis was flabbergasted that a person as attractive as Harry could not realize his effect on other people.

"I'm not flatterin' you! I mean every word!"

Harry watched as a bevy of emotions bounced around Louis' face. He saw alarm, confusion, frustration, and underneath it all was softness. And it was clear Louis was stymied because Harry didn't appear to believe how unfeigned and candid he was being.

"You really do, don't you?" asked Harry softly.

"Every word," Louis confirmed, suddenly looking a little less bewildered. So maybe Harry believed him. Believed that he valued everything Harry stood for.

"You still wanna go to sleep, or talk?" asked Harry.

"I really think . . . you and I could talk all night without pause. And it sounds invitin' too," admitted Louis.

"Then let's do it . . . that is, if you reckon you want to, yeah?"

Louis buried his hands in Harry's curly hair- just because he could. Harry closed his eyes. He couldn't help it—it was just a reflex. He peeked out from lowered lids to see Louis appraising his face, probing and analyzing with his eyes. And his expression was still soft. So soft.

Harry found himself feeling elated. For all Louis' sarcasm in everyday life, there was not a trace of it showing now. No smirks, no attitude or talking like he didn't give a rat's ass. No more bad boy act. No more looking like you wouldn't want to meet him in a dark alley. Just softness. Softness that didn't threaten Harry or make him feel scrutinized; just accepted. Louis had been carrying a shield that he put up to defend himself. He was finally letting it down now. Inch by inch.

Harry hadn't felt this validated by anyone else. Not even Audrey and Tish. There was some kind of eerie, yet euphoric connection here. He didn't know what he'd do if this feeling were to dissolve. He hoped he wasn't reading Louis wrong. Because if he was reading him _right,_ he dared hope there were possibilities here.

"Or perhaps, we could stay up all night kissing," Louis' voice vibrated against Harry's neck because he'd burrowed his face there after Harry had closed his eyes again.

"But . . . but you can be . . . hard, Lou." Harry had no idea why he'd said that. The words had tumbled out, his thoughts circulating in his brain and then flowing off his tongue. Maybe because Louis was acting so different, and it was hard to adapt to.

"I know," Louis knew exactly what Harry was trying to get across. "I was hard on you in the beginning, I admit it. And I'm good at ignorin' you too. But do you feel the difference tonight? It's been there all along—under the surface."

 _Boy, could he feel the difference!_ Louis the cynic, Louis the skeptic, Louis the dictator. Well, maybe not quite _that_ bad. But intimidating, certainly. Demanding, grim, overly critical, yes. But tonight, and every time they'd been alone for any length of time, Louis became steadily, progressively tender.

"I do feel the difference."

"I think I could learn to like havin' you here," Louis looked indecisive, wavering, and then, just as quickly, acted as if he'd come to a decision. "Do you want to stay?" Louis' eyes were bright, eagerly awaiting Harry's reply.

" _Do I?_ I'd like nothin' better!" Harry said, enthusiasm just bursting from him.

"Good, because I think we . . . need it. I want you all to meself."

Harry couldn't believe these words were coming from Louis, of all people. He was actually admitting to wanting Harry with him, alone. And for the entire two weeks! At least, that's how it had sounded. Harry wasn't going to ask questions, however. He would take whatever he could get.

There was a beat of silence, and then,"It would be nice to feel normal," Louis said, completely out of the blue.

"Normal? What's normal? Define normal," Harry teased, the ongoing joke making them both chuckle.

"You know what I mean," Louis admonished gently.

"No, not really."

Louis thought back on his life and came to the conclusion that he had never, in fact, been normal by most people's standards. He'd been born in England, lost his mother when he was hardly more than a toddler, gone to school, tried to make his father happy—sadly with little success, then had come to the U.S. and learned to ranch. Then he'd lost his father, and had, by all intents and purposes _become_ his father. It was all he'd known, after all. He'd only lived a _normal_ life until he was three, and he didn't remember much of that time. But he'd had good fortune in that his employees understood him, and what they didn't understand, Johnny had filled them in on. He'd become respected and admired, but normal? No, he didn't reckon anyone could say that. Yet, Harry and the other hands seemed to like him just the same.

"I'm hard, like you said," Louis prompted Harry's memory of their prior conversation.

"But you're bein' different now, so I'm wonderin' which is the real you."

Harry had a point, but Louis didn't feel like getting into the semantics. Or were they semantics? His brain wasn't functioning at full capacity. He was tired from all the earlier adrenaline and wanted conversation that wasn't draining. Louis shrugged, and Harry got the hint, dropping the subject.

"In a couple of days, I think we should start makin' plans about catchin' a mustang."

Harry's gorgeous green eyes look on a life of their own. They fairly sparkled in the low light.

"You mean, I'll be able to help?" he asked, quivering with the anticipation of Louis' answer.

"Of course, goofy. You're gettin' good enough with a rope that you might be able to lasso one."

"Oh no! I'm not _that_ good yet!"

"You're better than you give yourself credit for. You can at least help me when we ambush 'em."

Harry felt a brief pang of sympathy for the wild horses; especially the one that would end up with a rope around his neck, and taken away from his herd—the only life he knew. But he also knew that there were too many wild horses, and saving one, breaking it, and finding it a new home would ensure it would never starve to death or die of thirst in a drought. It would be well taken care of, and would never have to fear for its safety again. Still, the process made his empathy kick in. The horse wouldn't know what was happening, except that it had been captured.

Harry swept the thought from his mind. He'd deal with that later. Right now, he was in bed with Louis, and at the moment, the rancher was kissing his neck, coaxing Harry to acknowledge his kisses and reciprocate. Harry didn't have a single problem with that. Louis' mouth was now sucking at his neck, his reluctance to commit to anything physical long gone.

Carnal, sinful thoughts dominated Harry's mind, and at the same time, he really was clueless when it came to what Louis wanted. But he trusted Louis. If he didn't, he wouldn't be here alone with him, many miles from civilization.

They kissed for a while, and then when things started getting too heated, Louis governed himself, and they talked another couple of hours about family, England, and other light topics. They eventually fell asleep with Louis being the big spoon, curved against Harry's body like it had always been that way.

In the morning, Louis' voice was gravely with sleep as he warned Harry that they'd better get out of bed or risk being seen. That got Harry moving. Someone could show up at any time with their food and supplies.

They were sitting on the ground, looking out over the valley, sipping coffee, as had become their custom in such a short space of time when they saw one of the ranch trucks pull up on the road.

Louis and Harry mounted their horses that were saddled in preparation, and trotted out to the truck.

Leo and Nick hopped out and began to heave bags of clothes and food from the bed of the truck. Leo's curiosity was evident. He was looking every which way, his mouth open in an O, and there was something in his eyes that made Harry uncomfortable.

They'd brought most of the rest of Harry's clothes. "I'll have matching sweats now!" announced Harry to Louis, who shook his head, rolled his eyes and chuckled. The food and clothes were four bag's worth, and they were glad they had two horses to get it back to the cabin.

"This is great!" Leo spoke up. "Can I see the cabin?"

Louis looked at Harry, caught off-guard.

"Uh yeah, sure. You can ride on the back of Joaquin," Louis offered generously. How could he tell him no, anyway? Leo carried a bag on each side of the horse. Nick said he'd wait at the truck, as he'd already seen the cabin in the past. So Louis resigned himself to having to present the cabin to Leo's prying eyes.

Harry was stunned when he experienced an unpleasant emotion as Leo swung up behind Louis. Why did he not like Leo riding behind Louis? Harry hefted the remaining two bags and followed along, trying to analyze his reaction. Jealousy? Was that it?

When they got to the cabin, Leo sprung down from Louis' horse and scanned the valley below, whistling long and low, then went inside the cabin. Harry threw a look Louis' way. There was nothing they could do or say about the fact that there was only one bed in there.

When Leo emerged, his face strongly hinted at confusion. He didn't mention the bed, but his eyes kept going from Louis to Harry, and his expression was one of mild disbelief, almost as if he was questioning his own ideas. He quickly recovered, however.

"Hey this place is sick!" Leo exclaimed. "Think you guys would mind a guest? It's real slow at the ranch with all the major stuff done . . . " Louis panicked internally, but you'd never dream it from looking at his face. It remained impassive and serious. This was what he did best, after all. Presenting a poker face when it was most needed.

Then Louis did something that took Harry's breath away, literally. He hooked an arm around Harry's waist, his hand traveling slowly up Harry's side to land on Harry's opposite shoulder, squeezing slightly. The message came through very strong and very clear, and Harry could scarcely believe it.

Leo's eyes flicked from Louis' face to Harry's face, and then back again, astonishment dominating his expression.

Harry tried to hide his own shock. He wasn't sure what Louis was trying to accomplish, but this was the boldest move Harry had ever seen him make. He couldn't decide if Louis was being possessive, protective, or just trying to shake Leo up.

"Well, uh, not much room in that cabin for three," Louis uttered, not even fidgeting a tiny bit, and Harry almost choked on his own saliva. No way had Leo _not_ noticed there was only one bed in there. Good thing they'd remembered to make it, or this would have been good enough evidence for a court room. As if it wasn't already.

Leo was left speechless. The implication couldn't be missed or misinterpreted and Leo was frozen, just staring at the two of them with a partially open mouth. Through no persuasion of Louis,' Harry made absolutely certain the message got across by smoothly slipping his own arm around Louis' waist.

"Oh, well . . . " Leo, normally an avid talker, back pedaled, trying to conceal his embarrassment and shock. "You're right—there's . . . . not much . . . room for a . . . third wheel." He realized how presumptive that had sounded, and shut his mouth.

After putting the supplies into the cabin and cellar, Louis remounted Joaquin and wordlessly, Leo swung up in back. Leo looked like he'd seen a ghost, and was clearly eager to make himself scarce.

"Well . .. . have fun," Leo said as they prepared to ride off, then realized he'd just put his foot in his mouth once again.

"We will," said Harry. "and thanks for bringin' the stuff." Louis grinned to himself. Harry was so good at sounding virtuous! There had been nothing evocative in his voice. No trace of guilt. Nothing to indicate any wrongdoings. God, Louis loved that about him. He'd handled this like a pro. And he hadn't the foggiest idea Harry had thought the same about him.

Louis dropped Leo off at the truck, and the awkward silence that followed was resonant.

"Well, someone'll be by again in two days," Leo said weakly.

Louis nodded. "Oh, Leo. Last night Harry told me he was concerned about his mum and two of his friends. He gave me their phone numbers." Louis pulled his cell phone out of his pocket.

"Could you please call or text them to let them know Harry will be in the Apache Mountains for two weeks, and that he's fine? He left so suddenly that he didn't have a chance to call them. Here, I can put the names and numbers in your phone."

"Okay, sure. Be happy to," Leo handed his cell over to Harry, who punched in the information.

"Thanks, Leo. Harry would worry the entire time if they weren't notified."

Leo realized then that Harry would be staying here with Louis for the duration. As he and Nick drove off, Louis felt a little sorry for the lad. There had been no forewarning at all. And Leo would probably let it slip, whether he meant to or not, to at least one of the other hands. He'd have a real hard time keeping something like this to himself.

"Oi, oi!" Louis called out as he rode back up to the cabin. It was unnecessary, as Harry was sitting in the usual spot. Harry's face was full of wonder when he met Louis' gaze.

"Surprised I did that?" Louis asked casually as he dismounted and began to unsaddle Joaquin.

Harry nodded, looking dazed and feeling a little off balance mentally.

"I think I did a proper good job of it," Louis chuckled softly and with satisfaction, knowing Harry needed to come out of his stupor before they could discuss it. "And I like the way you followed suit. We really had Leo choked up. He could hardly talk when we got to the truck."

Still jarred by the incident, and wondering what exactly all this meant, Harry saw how firmly locked Louis' gaze was on his.

"I never dreamed you'd do sommat like that," Harry spit it out, afraid that if he didn't he'd lose his nerve.

"You said once that I wouldn't look at you, tried to avoid things, whatever it was you said. Well, I figured now was the time to prove to you that I _do_ take you seriously," Louis confessed.

Aghast, Harry's mind tried to process it, and determine what Louis was really saying. "I thought you were kinda . . . emotionally unavailable. Then you go and do _that."_

"I hope . . . I hope puttin' me arm around you didn't . . . make you feel . . . uncomfortable," Louis said, his gorgeous blue eyes showing a trace of unease.

"No," said Harry quickly. "No, it didn't. In fact, I quite . . . liked it."


	41. Chapter 41

So . . . Harry's nipples were hard . . . again. And Louis didn't know if he was capable of witnessing it without jumping on him. The desire, the need, was agonizing.

The intense fondness was also back with a bang. Because yeah, it wasn't just about lust. Harry meant a hell of a lot to Louis. Somewhere in the past nearly six months, he'd fallen for Harry, and now he had to face up to the fact that there was no going back. And his mutual soul searching with Harry last night had convinced him to stop hiding. This was huge for Louis, who had been lying to himself for so long.

"I want you . . ." said Harry, stunning Louis. "Want versus need. I was thinkin' about that when you gave Leo the ride back to the truck. _Want_ is fine, nothin' wrong with it. But _need_ is sommat you can't live without."

Louis gasped out loud. This was earth-moving for him. He'd never heard Harry say anything so insightful, so penetrating. How did Harry manage to know these things? And what Harry had said was true. Lust was a fact of life, but _need_ was a different animal. The two could resemble each other, but need was so much closer to love . . .

Trying to engage himself without falling apart, Louis nodded his agreement.

"That was . . . enlightenin.' I've never heard anythin' said so . . . eloquently. You gettin' soft on me?" Louis began chattering, trying to deflect the attention off himself and onto Harry. Because Harry was staring at him. Nothing was more disconcerting than those light green eyes trying to see inside his thoughts.

"I've always been soft." That was true too. Harry was the softest person Louis had ever had the honor of being acquainted with. "I want you _and_ I need you," Harry finished his thought.

So, was Harry saying he couldn't live without Louis? Or was Louis wigging out? Was he hoping that Harry meant that the way it sounded?

Harry sat there, peering at Louis' hair, the color of caramel and toffee tossed haphazardly together, reflecting the sun, and thought he'd never seen such perfection. The tan skin, the almost disgruntled look on his face because he'd been caught out; aware that Harry knew the score—he was sure of it. But Harry also saw that Louis was leaning into it. He wasn't disputing it. Not aloud anyway The shock of realizing he was gay had to be present too, but, hopefully, he was craving Harry the way Harry longed for him.

His boss was finally breaking down and disclosing he had feelings for Harry, if in a somewhat roundabout, vague way. And the way he kissed Harry, treated Harry, made the younger man hope that it wasn't just a passing fancy.

"I gave Leo your friends' and mum's numbers so they'll be called as soon as they get back to the ranch."

Harry smiled. "Thanks. That was the only thing givin' me pause about stayin' here. I was afraid they'd think sommat had happened to me, especially when there isn't any signal out here. Me mum would panic if all she got was voice mail."

"If she even got that. Wanna see the place where you almost went over the edge last night?" Louis got up, and Harry followed him.

"I guess. I mean, um, I didn't go over, but it might give me the creeps to see it."

"It'll be good for you. Put the fear of God in you, teach you to be more careful," Louis was back to his commanding self.

When they got to the exact spot, Louis pointed. "Look at that root stickin' out there. That's all that saved your life."

Harry's eyes were as wide as saucers when he looked down at how far he would have dropped. The root wasn't that sturdy looking either. He stepped back, even though he'd been back at least two feet from the edge.

"No, Lou. _You_ saved me life."

"Let's just say it was convenient to have me in the area. I have good night vision or I might not have found you."

"I wondered how you found me. Exactly where I was, that is. Everythin' was solid black to me eyes."

"I would have heard you yellin,' no doubt." Louis sounded sure he would still have located Harry in time, but Harry wasn't all that convinced. He still didn't know how Louis' hand had so precisely closed around his wrist in that inky blackness.

Yep, Louis was Superman disguised as a cowboy.

"I don't wanna look down there anymore," Harry said, so they started back.

"Wanna work out a plan to catch a mustang?" asked Louis as they arrived back to the cabin. "Over breakfast and coffee?"

Sounded good. They hadn't had time for breakfast this morning before Leo and Nick had appeared.

Harry rummaged through some of the food bags Leo had left and his eyes sparkled when he found bananas. Louis rolled his eyes. Watching Harry eating bananas was torture, and he _swore_ Harry ate them in a sensual, suggestive way just for his benefit. He had no solid proof, however.

"Ziti for dinner, and cannoli for dessert!" Harry exclaimed.

"What's for lunch?" Louis asked, feeling a bit greedy.

"Cheese and Cookie's homemade bread and fruit," Came Harry's sing-song reply. Louis nodded his approval. "Happy days."

Harry stepped up and offered to scramble some eggs and fry some bacon. It really _was_ true, thought Harry as they ate and sipped at their coffee. Food did taste better out in the open air. Or maybe it was his general state of mind. He felt peaceful, serene.

Louis was certainly sedate himself. He lay back in the grass and went over his plan to nab a mustang just as it had filled its belly to capacity with water from the creek.

"We can't be downwind, or the mustangs'll smell us. And we'll have to time it exactly right. If they hear us comin,' they'll be gone before we can get a hundred yards from them."

"Have there been any times you haven't caught one?" asked Harry.

"Yeah, twice. You only get one chance. They're smart. But with two of us, it'll be easier."

"I can't wait to try," Harry wanted Louis to know he could trust him to carry out orders to the letter.

"How about tomorrow?"

Harry's stomach flipped. The thought of catching a wild horse made him jittery. He didn't know just what a mustang would do, or was capable of doing, to get away. He knew the horses would be frantic. But he reminded himself that Louis had done this many times and wouldn't endanger either of them.

"I'm down."

"We're gonna catch your favorite," Louis picked this moment to break the news to Harry. He held his breath, wondering what Harry would say.

"What? The pinto?" Harry had not envisioned this at all. He'd just presumed Louis would pick his own favorite. Louis was relishing the look on Harry's face. Like a kid on Christmas morning, ecstatic that he'd gotten the toy he wanted most.

"Why? Why that one?" Harry wanted to know if Louis also thought the young horse was special.

"Because he's your favorite," Louis said simply. "And he's nice . . . really nice." Louis tried to make what he was doing sound less obvious. It was true though. The horse was really fine.

So Louis was going to try to catch the horse that Harry had admired so much. Harry took a deep breath, trying to take command of his emotions. He felt a persistent burning behind his eyes.

 _Don't cry!_

Louis would think he was something far worse than soft if he let a single tear fall. He'd think he was a wuss. He'd think he was too girly, too emotional, too sentimental. So Harry waited to speak until he felt he could talk in a normal voice, and not give his feelings away.

"That would be incredible," he decided that was enough. Better not push it by getting all mushy about it.

"And today we can just relax, or go swimmin,' explore on horseback, or whatever. . . if we don't ride soon, our horses are never goin' to want to work again." Louis grinned.

"As long as I'm with you, any of those things would be great," Harry murmured.

Louis wished Harry wouldn't say things like that, because he didn't know how to respond. What he _really_ wanted to do was kiss Harry clear up until dinner time, and then kiss him some more. He wanted to be as close to him as he could get. But he was still having trouble accepting the concept of being gay.

"How about we ride for a while, and then go swimmin'?" Harry's suggestion sounded perfect to Louis.

Louis soon found Harry finding the slightest excuse to brush up against him. Slyly taking advantage, and then throwing a seemingly innocent dimpled smile his way when Louis tried to glare at him. It was useless—Louis couldn't get mad at Harry for flirting. He couldn't even get a little irritated because their feelings were, by now, distinctly mutual.

But Louis also knew that if he allowed himself to follow his instincts, he might do something Harry deemed inappropriate, and that could unnerve Harry, potentially ending something that was beginning to blossom. Like fine wine, they needed time. And it wasn't possible to rush time. It would be sweeter for the wait.

After a nice two hour ride around the valley, staying well away from the vicinity where Louis suspected the mustangs were, they headed back to the cabin to unsaddle their horses, brush them, and hobble them, releasing them to graze once again.

"Saber did really well today, didn't he?" asked Harry. "He didn't stumble but a few times on the descent to the valley."

"Not too bad," conceded Louis. "But still no mountain goat." Joaquin had never put a foot wrong for the entire ride. Louis had ideas, but he wasn't about to tell Harry. Not just yet. That mustang Harry so admired could possibly be an excellent ranch horse. Mustangs didn't stumble. They were practically as sure-footed as mules. The young stallion had grown up since birth in rocky territory, following his mother everywhere, and they learned early on that falling or being clumsy meant vulnerability to predators. Their mothers taught them, and the land did an even better job of educating them. If Louis could break the mustang well enough so that the horse was reliable, Harry would have a safe mount someday. He could still ride Saber too, of course, but the mustang would come in handy for tough jobs and uneven terrain.

Shit, who was he kidding, anyway? He wanted to catch that horse for Harry just because Harry had appreciated the animal. The fact that the horse was a beauty, and looked like a good ranch candidate as well was secondary.

As they dove into the creek, it was refreshing for both men, the Indian summer still being fairly hot. They used the soap and washed all their sweat and their horses' sweat off, shampooing their hair as well. At this point in time, they were no longer embarrassed to shed their clothes, and slipped out of them casually, drying themselves in the sun on the bank, then slipping into the clean clothes they'd brought along. They'd given all their dirty clothes to Leo and Nick for Nora to wash. Harry had felt guilty about it, but Nora had a washing machine, and that was a lot more convenient than washing them by hand in the creek.

"She washes everyone's clothes anyway, and she's always washed ours, Hazza. It's no more work for her than it's ever been. Stop fussin!'" Louis had snapped.

They had both donned tank tops, and had checked each other out, trying not to be detected with their sideways glances. They walked slowly back, their conversation flowing and easy.

Back at the cabin, it was mid-afternoon by now, and they were both starving. So they decided to heat up the ziti and vegetables Cookie had sent. They'd have the bread and cheese another time.

"We won't get hungry again tonight, that's for sure, yeah?" Louis showed Harry all the cannoli Cookie had sent. The cook knew they loved the dessert and had been overly generous. Louis couldn't remember a time Cookie hadn't been overly generous.

Louis couldn't take his eyes off Harry as the younger man licked his cannoli and savored it. It was all kinds of wrong to watch Harry licking cannoli, but he couldn't seem to pry his eyes away. When Harry began to make humming noises of satisfaction while licking the last of it from his fingers, Louis felt his control waning.

"Do you really enjoy it _that_ much?" he asked, trying to sound like it bugged him.

"Yeah," said Harry without shame. "Gotta embrace it. Live In the moment. You gotta not live in the past, the future or even the present. Gotta live in the moment."

Despite his state of blossoming arousal, Louis loved Harry's philosophy. The guy really knew how to enjoy life. How had he gathered so much wisdom in just twenty-three years? Louis threw a chocolate bar Harry's way, not wanting to talk about cannoli anymore. Great . . . now, forever more, the thought of cannoli would make him horny.

Where did Louis get this endless supply of chocolate, wondered Harry. But he wasn't going to cross-examine the Donny chap about it. He was just going to enjoy. The chocolate, that was.

It astonished Louis that he was so super aware of Harry. He knew just where Harry was at all times, without even looking, and he knew when Harry was approaching, even if he didn't see or hear him. It was a surge of adrenaline, an exhilaration that fastened onto something in his gut and wouldn't liberate him. It was as if his body was velcro that wanted to adhere to Harry. The closer the lad got, the higher the degree of difficulty grew to break free before the velcro attached itself to Harry. It hampered him, but problem was, he _wanted_ itto.

Harry munched on his chocolate bar now, sucking each finger clean after he'd completed eating it. It was too much for Louis. This had gone entirely too far.

"Right," said Louis as he thrust himself up from the ground with a power he put into use on demand, taking their paper plates and plastic utensils with him to put in into their trash bag. Harry wondered why the rancher had been so abrupt, but Louis was just like that sometimes. He was never one that was much for explanation. Harry was well acquainted with his boss's eccentric behavior that often popped up without notice. The guy wasn't static at all. It was like working with an enigma, a puzzle. Annoying often, adorable even more often.

All Louis could think about was kissing Harry. He yanked the thought from his mind, flinging it away, yet it reappeared over and over like a boomerang. How he'd abstained last night was extraordinary. He knew why though. He had the strongest, most overpowering urge to protect Harry. Even from himself. He wished Harry would be more careful. He could so easily stumble into uncharted territory, and Louis might then be viewed as the big bad wolf. Louis wasn't going to let that happen. He wasn't going to let his libido end up alarming or unnerving Harry. The stakes were high, and Harry deserved much more finesse than that. He deserved to be romanced, much as the word itself made Louis shudder. He'd never been big on things such as that. But Harry . . . well, he was the exception. Louis could imagine doing just about anything short of killing himself to prove to Harry that . . . that what? That he cared, that he had empathy, and that his friendship with Harry was something he by no means took for granted.

Last night had been trying enough, but what would happen when the sun went down again tonight? How much longer would he be able to resist?

"Where do you keep gettin' those candy bars from?" asked Harry.

"If I told you that, you'd get into me stash, and then I wouldn't have anythin' to bribe you with," Louis shot back.

"Bribe me? What do you have to bribe me about?"

Louis swallowed hard. That hadn't come out right.

"I was just kiddin, you wanker," he said. And he _had_ been kidding. He just hoped Harry hadn't taken it the wrong way. Here he was, reading stuff into things, being paranoid again. He needed to stop doing that, and let his hair down, really enjoy this isolation with Harry. So, he decided to do just that, on the spot.

"Technically, _all_ guys are wankers," Harry said on the spur of the moment. It was so funny that Louis threw his head back and laughed with no inhibition. Harry had never made any references to anything such as that before, and that made it all the funnier. Harry had always avoided participating whenever sex had been mentioned among the ranch hands.

"Point well made," Louis said, still chuckling. Harry was smiling. Louis could see he was pleased to have made him laugh.

When Harry snuggled a little too close to him, Louis didn't move away or make an excuse about something he had to do. He just allowed it. If Harry got too cozy tonight, he'd just let Harry choose the pace. That was the safest, most foolproof path. Problem was, just kissing Harry was almost too much. It drew him in dangerously close, pulled and stretched his self- control to the limit. But with Harry being as innocent as he was, how could he even attempt to explain to the Cheshire lad what it did to him? He'd only end up twisting his tongue into a knot. And then if Harry had questions, the torment would increase, because God knew how he'd manage to answer them.

He'd practically _claimed_ Harry in front of Leo. Louis was amazed at himself—that he had it in him to be so blatant in front of someone. He'd never done that with anyone. Hell, he'd hardly touched women except in the bedroom. There was _no way_ though, he was going to allow Leo to encroach on their blissful privacy. At any price, he'd protect it. That, of course, wasn't the only reason he'd done it, but he wasn't ready to explore any deeper at the moment. It was too tangible, too undeniable to deal with right now.

Wrestling with his emotions that were literally flooding him, Louis tried to look indifferent as Harry continued to get more and more cozy. Harry was now practically in his lap as they watched the mustangs come to drink before sundown.

Louis let Harry keep the binoculars most of the time, even though Harry kept trying to get him to take a turn. Louis saw the wonder in Harry's green eyes as he studied them, always keeping his main focus on the young stallion they had planned to catch. As Harry studied the mustangs, Louis studied Harry.

 _Maybe tomorrow ._ . . perhaps Louis would be lucky enough to get Harry that horse Harry so fancied. It wouldn't be easy, unless he got a really perfect shot at him with the rope, and of course, you had to be fairly close for that to happen. And Louis imagined that young stud could really run, so if he got away, there would be no do-over. And he didn't want to fail Harry like that. Didn't want to disappoint him.

After the horses had all disappeared on their way back to wherever they stayed in the valley, Harry continued his snuggling, but this time Louis didn't remain impassive. He draped his arm over Harry's shoulder, coaxing him ever closer.

Harry didn't push the issue. He seemed happy enough at the moment to just sit here, resting against Louis' side as twilight closed in and the air brought a crisp chill to their exposed body parts. With only tank tops and sweat bottoms on, they felt it seep into their bones quickly. It was a handy excuse to stay close and share their body warmth. Harry, of course, seized the opportunity.

It didn't seem possible, but Harry pressed closer still. Louis involuntarily experienced a sharp intake of breath that would have been an audible gasp had he not squelched it just in the nick of time. But then, honesty was paramount . . . he wanted honesty with Harry, and tamping down his physical reactions was not being entirely truthful. He vowed that he wouldn't curb it again.

Louis' belly had butterflies, but they were the good kind. He was excited, but wasn't sure why. Maybe it was just that he was finally beginning to willingly swallow the fact that he was gay. Close to accepting it completely. Or maybe it was just Harry's presence that was making him feel giddy. He had not fully, until now, come to the realization of how long he'd been running from himself, worrying about what others thought, vowing to be like his father, fending off his attraction to . . . Harry. It was so transparent now that Harry was the one who had shone a very bright beacon on his sexuality.

Before Harry, he hadn't been very attracted to women—just enough, really, to have sex with one now and then. But he hadn't really been attracted to men either. He'd been in limbo, ambiguous, inconclusive, and as a result, miserable.

Lies. His whole adult life had been lies. Not big ones, but he hadn't shown his true self. And now Harry had appeared, and it was as if all the pieces of the puzzle slid into place; and all because of Harry's patience and pure acceptance of him. Louis didn't want to lie anymore—to himself or anyone else. Even if it _was_ just by omission. He was so tired of it.

Harry reached to shyly run a hesitant forefinger over Louis' prominent cheekbone, and down, over his handsome jawline. Louis ducked his head a little and smiled slightly.

There was a dull rumbling sound, and Louis' eyes went to the sky. He would have liked this moment to have continued on at least a little longer.

"Storm comin' up on us. I didn't even notice. They can appear quick in the mountains."

"Oh no!" Harry looked distressed.

"I know, you don't like lightnin' or thunder. I'd bring the horses in, but they can take shelter in the trees or rock overhangs. Two horses in the cabin might be a bit dodgy."

Harry giggled at that. He wore a dreamy, slightly glazed expression that Louis was growing accustomed to.

"What're you thinkin' about, Harold?"

Harry smiled. "Oh, I was just thinkin' that you're me sunshine in the midst of the storm. Figuratively and literally." A loud thunderclap sounded, as if concurring with Harry's statement.

Clearing his throat and looking a little sheepish. Louis said, "Let's go to bed."

Wanting to get out of the storm as soon as possible, and wanting to get into bed with Louis even more, Harry wasted no time. He slunk like a shadow right past Louis, and was already under the covers by the time Louis entered the cabin. And there, beside the bed, lay his tank top and sweat pants.

 _Sweat pants!_

Louis looked away from the clothing as quickly as he could manage. He was almost positive Harry wasn't wearing underwear, as he'd seen none at the creek. Well, he was in the same boat, but his was quite a predicament, because he'd have to get undressed _in front_ of Harry. And it didn't matter that the two of them had already seen each other naked while in the rain or at the creek. It was the fact that he would be on display before he got into bed. Right there where Harry could see him up close, scrutinize him.

 _That sneaky bastard!_ Louis couldn't go and grab a towel or something, because it would make him look bashful and cowardly. Harry had conveniently made sure his nakedness was covered, and now what was Louis to do?


	42. Chapter 42

Louis stood there, motionless. The fire had not been started, and the lantern had not been lit. No matter—he knew Harry could still see him. It was twilight, and Louis knew he couldn't just stand there and stall for ten or fifteen minutes, until it was completely dark. Okay, so Harry had him.

Well, it was a dirty trick Harry had pulled, getting into bed naked before Louis could even make it back inside the cabin, and Harry wasn't going to get away with it. Louis slipped his tank top off, then held the sheet from his side of the bed in front of himself from the waist down, stripping off his sweat pants and then sliding between the sheets without revealing the "goods."

He looked at Harry smugly, wiping the complacent look off Harry's face effectively.

All Harry had been able to see was Louis' golden torso and muscled biceps, and the next thing he knew, Louis was beside him, and probably just as naked as he was. He'd outfoxed him. Still, Harry wanted to giggle at his own cleverness, even though it had been short-lived, but he was too out of breath at the thought of Louis possibly being naked, and _right next to him._

"Slick," murmured Harry, figuring a compliment about Louis' clever maneuvering was in order.

Louis snorted. "You're a dick for doin' that," gruffly letting Harry know he was onto him.

"Well, it worked," Harry reminded him.

"No, it didn't, because I'm hard to outwit, _obviously."_ Louis said, his voice carrying a tang of satisfaction. He didn't need to remind Harry that he hadn't seen him naked; the whole thing seeming quite juvenile, like two kids sticking their tongues out at each other in the schoolyard.

Nevertheless, the mood was light—there was no animosity about the fast one Harry had pulled. Each man was receptive and eager for more physical closeness. It was very apparent in the loaded silence that followed.

They were always painfully shy before kissing. It happened every time, but maybe that was because it was considered so taboo by society.

Harry was having major difficulty containing himself. And knowing about Louis' lack of clothes made it a million times worse. He wanted to throw himself across Louis' body and let Louis kiss him the way he did in such a masterful way. But good things come to those who wait . . .

Louis was hungry-starving. And not for food. He grabbed Harry, saying, "Bring it in." The ragged edges of his breathing held Harry spellbound. Harry could see the raw intensity in Louis' eyes. His own breaths expanded his lungs to full capacity, only to release all that air into a sigh, and then gulp in another intense breath. It was hard to breathe being this close to the Doncaster wonder. It was even harder to believe they were alone in an isolated cabin, in bed together with no clothes on.

 _The Doncaster wonder._ Harry felt an urge to giggle again, but came to the conclusion it must be pure nervousness breaking through.

Their bare chests up against each other. All that bare skin. All the unanswered questions. The yearnings. All the unknowns. Harry wanted to cry out for Louis to stop at the same time he wanted to beg him to continue. Contradictions swarmed him. He wanted to pray to God for forgiveness. But at the same time, he knew _love was love._

He'd never been in love, but what else could it be? What he felt for Louis was nothing else he could put a name to. The cold, hard rancher had become so precious to him, so essential to his happiness, and his reason for getting up every morning. It really was true—the moment he saw Louis in the preliminary light of dawn, it made all the hard work ahead of him more than worth it. Just to be able to gaze at him riding ahead or beside him, drink in his masculinity, his ruggedness.

It had sneaked up on him. Somewhere in the middle of cowboy dances, calf wrangling, fence repair, painting and recordkeeping, along with everything else you do on a ranch, Louis had carved a niche in Harry's heart. Even with his broody, often negative attitude, Harry had seen the man with his guard down, and had discovered how vulnerable his boss really was. How caring he was, how, in a million little ways he demonstrated that there was indeed a very soft side to him if a person only took the time to look for it.

 _Don't let me make a fatal mistake. Don't let me lose Harry._ Louis wrestled with himself mentally.

Why was it so terribly important to him? Louis knew he had some dark corners, but if this didn't beat all . . . If Harry only knew how he had become Louis' obsession. The need ruled him. Even stroking himself off at night had hardly ever made a dent in his wild hunger for Harry. Not since he'd met the lad. Just being here in bed with him was divine. Even if he didn't lay a finger on him.

Louis kissed Harry now with spirit and pluck. Tenacious, he brushed his lips over Harry's, confident the affection would be returned. And it was. Harry's moans did a pit maneuver on Louis. Got him off balance, sliding out of control. His own moan sounded in his ears, stunning him. He'd never moaned with a woman—not during sex or even while having an orgasm. He'd only tried to convince himself that he liked it—with no luck. Kissing Harry was a type of orgasm in and of itself. It was an anti-climax that left Louis wanting more, and willing to give up just about anything to get it. For some reason, Harry felt so much like _home._

 _He didn't deserve Harry._

Nothing about Louis' advances were frantic, like let's- get- naked. _HA! They already were!_ Most of his kisses were slow and deliberate. Loving. Not, let's-get-this-over-with-before-I-come-to-my-senses. Louis was tender, treating Harry as if he was the most precious thing to ever come into his life.

But the desire—it was right under the surface, simmering and undulating like a treacherous snake. A non-venomous snake, but still, once bitten, you'd be tethered to Louis Tomlinson forever. You'd be rendered deliciously powerless.

Harry was clingy, and interestingly, Louis liked it. Harry was like a perpetual vine, winding his limbs around him. Louis had realized by now that Harry was a sensualist. He liked to touch, and Louis could see how much Harry loved giving affection.. As much as Harry responded with heavy breathing and gasping when their kisses grew in passion, Harry wanted that bodily contact even if they were just talking. He was always seeking it. Hence, the way he got into Louis' personal space and crowded him.

This had Louis wishing he wasn't so uptight. He envied Harry all the affection that the younger man flooded him with. He was done with the dodging he'd been doing with Harry for so long. It was time he came to his senses and owned up to the fact that he was gay, _and he wanted Harry._

"It was trippy, seeing where I almost fell last night," said Harry.

"Yeah, what a hella way that would be to go," Louis spouted without thinking of the impact his words might bring. "Course, you probably wouldn't have felt much with that far of a drop."

 _Careful now, Tomlinson._ Louis was well aware that he didn't have much of a filter, and he had to be careful not to ruffle Harry's sensibilities. He doubted Harry would appreciate graphic images materializing in his head.

But Harry didn't seem fazed. He was too busy burrowing his face into Louis' neck, making Louis quivery with need. Their rough breathing commenced as soon as they began to kiss again.

A thunderclap hammered into their eardrums directly after lightning had lit up the entire cabin. Of course, Harry smashed himself even closer to Louis. So close that there wasn't a body part that wasn't touching. And what might have been shameful, Louis made a light-hearted joke of.

"Closer Styles. Me body's likin' that," he chuckled. "Keep that thunder comin.'"

Harry was still shaken up from the thunder, but couldn't squash a soft giggle himself. If he wasn't so scared, maybe he could have responded with a quick-witted comeback. But no . . . maybe not. Harry was not used to talking or joking about sex, or body parts that had to do with sex. He just wasn't familiar enough with it to be fluid with that kind of thing. Their brief wanker wisecracking had been an absolute first for him.

"Thanks, man," Harry said, not having an indication of what he _should_ say. His mind was nearly numb anyway. Louis' body had infused him with an appealing drugged feeling. Lust curled in his belly, heat rose in his chest. And he didn't know what to do with it.

"I like you wrapped 'round me like that," Louis kept the flow of words coming, fueling himself as well as Harry with desire. In truth, Louis needed no fuel whatsoever, but he wasn't sure where Harry's mind was. This could blow up in their faces if Harry freaked.

 _He didn't deserve Harry_ —there was the thought again. And the guilt began to cloak Louis all over again. He had no right. He had no claim to Harry. However, Harry felt his apprehension, and held on tight, his arms now wrapped around Louis' shoulders.

Inevitably, their erections bumped into each other. Louis thought surely Harry would gasp and probably jerk away. But he was way off track. Instead, Harry eagerly brushed up against Louis again and again, and there was no way it was a coincidence or miscalculation. Harry knew exactly what he was doing. At least, Louis was pretty sure . . .

Louis had a feeling they would be more than compatible in the bedroom. In fact, explosive was much more likely. Harry's every response was encouraging—nothing but openness and eagerness.

Louis sure hoped Harry didn't expect him to know what he was doing, because this was all novel as much for him as it was for Harry. His experience with women wasn't going to help him much here. It really didn't count at all.

Kissing . .. kissing Harry was always on his mind. Louis had never been a fan of kissing before, but had soon discovered it was all he wanted with Harry. Constantly. His hard-on was so huge, throbbing so insistently that he feared a blow-out if Harry moved in just the right way.

The kissing was sweet, soft, gentle, and in the next instant, desperate and fierce. Louis was patient and understanding, coaxing Harry without goading or pressing. Sometimes, though, it was an effort to rein himself in. When he finally communicated to Harry that he wanted inside his mouth, Harry was only too happy to oblige. Their tongues rubbed and massaged each other, pulling moans out of them that made holding back close to impossible for Louis.

He wanted to rub himself against Harry. He knew it would only take a few rubs up against this sexy Cheshire lad to push him right over the edge of orgasm. His surprise was massive when Harry rocked his hips against him again, causing their erections to enjoy direct contact. It was no longer the least bit vague or indistinct. Louis now knew for certain Harry was doing it purposely.

On their sides, Louis' hand rubbed Harry's back in small circles. The way Harry arched told him that every touch felt as sensual to Harry as it did to him. Every touch was magnified, and the silence, except for the sound of their lips as they kissed, made it all feel like a dream. Thunder suddenly and rudely rattled the windows again, but Harry merely flinched this time.

From Harry's back, Louis' hand traveled to the younger man's hip. Some testing was in order here. He simply left his hand there to gauge Harry's response. It was better than Louis expected by a mile. Harry groaned, effectively signaling Louis that he was completely into it.

It was now or never, so Louis summoned his boldest move yet and cupped Harry's butt cheek, urging him gently to edge even closer. Now their hard-ons were snuggled up tight against each other, and both men gasped and panted.

Not sure what Harry would accept or not accept, he rubbed the lad's bum lovingly, actually caressing it, and proud that he was able to go through with it, or even know how to do it, since he'd never even caressed women like this. Thankfully, it came easily.

Taking a deep breath, hoping Harry wouldn't move too much and cause an explosion, Louis trailed his hand over Harry's hip again, and slowly, tentatively to the front. Harry stopped moving instantly. His hips stopped their forward rolling, and he became tight and tense.

He was waiting . . . uncertain. Louis could sense it. This was it. Louis had to make a decision. Either step over onto the gay side and touch Harry's very rigid member, or call a halt to this before it was too late. He was afraid Harry would hyperventilate, judging by the rapid, short breaths he was taking.

"Don't hurt me, Lou," Harry's voice was so soft that it barely reached Louis' ears.

At first, Louis was puzzled, but Harry's meaning was soon crystal clear to him. He didn't mean physically. He meant emotionally.

 _Oh God._

Lightning lit the room for an instant, and Louis saw the somber look in Harry's emerald eyes. The thunder crashed, and Harry quivered in Louis' arms.

Louis sighed, not knowing what on God's green earth he could say. This was serious, and Harry needed to be spared any hurt. Louis had been aware of this since he'd realized how bad he had it for Harry, but could he make any promises? Certainly not. Not this early.

Louis was terrified. Terrified for Harry. Better not to take any chances. Breaking Harry's heart would give him no pleasure. He sighed again, bowing his head against Harry's chest, feeling a little desolate.

"I . . . I don't . . . know what . . . to say," he stammered. Forcing himself to raise his head to look at Harry again, he wasn't sure if he saw an unusual brightness in Harry's eyes in the near-darkness. A sparkle that could have been tears that were trying to form.

Harry spoke up. "I care . . . too much for it to be healthy . . . if this is just . . .a fling for you," he mumbled haltingly.

Again, Louis was speechless. But the moment he recovered, he tried to explain. He owed that much to Harry. That and a lot more, actually.

"I've had . . . lots of flings, yeah. But you . . . you aren't in that category."

He saw the bewilderment in Harry's eyes, saw the thoughts churning. Of course, Harry wanted a definitive answer. And he deserved it.

"So, I'm not a fling, but . . . what am I?" Harry looked as if he hated himself for even asking, but somehow hadn't been able to hold back. Understandable. Harry was sensitive and intuitive. He must know . . .

Yeah, he had to know, but he needed to _hear_ it.

"I'll try me very best never to hurt you, Harry." He knew that wasn't good enough, but it was all he could give at this moment.

"I guess . . .that's all I can ask for, yeah?" Harry tried to lighten his tone but didn't quite accomplish it.

How could Louis continue now? Now that things had gotten so much more complicated in the space of a couple of minutes? He knew his feelings were strong, but despite knowing Harry for nearly half a year now, and spending so many hours a day with him, he was paralyzed by Harry's plea not to be hurt. How can _anyone_ promise not to hurt another? Was it even possible? He would be lying if he made that promise, wouldn't he? Lying because he didn't know without question what might or might not happen tomorrow, the next day, or next year.

"Tell me what, exactly, you're lookin' for," Louis was stalling for time, and he hated himself for it. But he also wanted to know exactly where he stood in Harry's eyes.

Harry began to look exasperated now. A flicker of fear even touched his features. And no wonder. Sure, he'd asked a very burdensome, demanding question, but Harry was a _virgin,_ and he meant a whole hell of a lot to Louis. He didn't know if he would be able to face losing him, if it came to that. He was being unreasonable, he knew, to be questioning Harry about this when they weren't even in a relationship yet, but Harry had said something first, and Louis had to think about protecting his own heart too. He knew Harry had never been serious about anyone. It would be better if they talked about it more extensively. But words wouldn't form.

Anyway, for now, he'd rather not question it anymore. He'd rather kiss Harry. Single-minded, he was. Later, he told himself, they could go into it more in depth.

But why not tell the entire truth?

"You," Harry answered suddenly.

There was a lull before the storm inside this cabin, no matter the one outside. For a moment, nothing happened. Then Louis transformed into a raging wild animal. Harry didn't have time to wonder if his answer was what had triggered this behavior. All he could do right now was assimilate all Louis had to give.

Louis took control. The kisses were becoming even deeper, more uncensored, incessantly more passionate. Harry wondered if he'd ever surface again, because he had been a fragment of what he was now-before letting Louis explore his mouth with his own, caress him. His entire world had been reshaped. He was losing himself, and willingly.

Harry had said what Louis had wanted to hear, and he wasn't being shy about his feelings on the subject.

 _Harry wanted him._

Louis had happily committed himself anyway by now. He'd put his arm around Harry right in front of Leo. Had claimed Harry. There was no turning back now, nor did he want to. Even stranger, Harry had not questioned it, had handled it with ease.

Swimming in a sea of never ending kisses, Harry was staggered at the way he felt. The way his body tingled and his head spun. Desire thrummed through him, and it felt a little bit like when he thought of Louis and touched himself before going to sleep at night, only a million times stronger. A thousand sensations coursed along Harry's nerve endings, sizzling along the way. The warmth just kept spreading. He supposed Louis was seducing him, and what a rush it brought him! He'd apparently missed out on so much in life. He drank it all in, let Louis push him down, into the mattress, because Louis was now over him instead of them being side by side. He didn't know when that had happened, but at this point, he'd go to the ends of the earth to never have to let go of Louis again.

Strong, capable, work roughened fingers brushed against his cock. Just ghosting it. Harry gasped and whimpered even as his hips instinctively lifted off the bed, thrusting himself right into Louis' hand, purely out of instinct.

"Good God, Harry," said Louis on a whisper of breath, uttered directly into Harry's ear. Harry had flabbergasted him with his immediate response. A _positive_ response.

"Louis . . . Louis . . . " Harry whined, and this kind of whining aroused Louis, enflamed him. No one had _ever_ aroused Louis like this. Now there was not even a speck of a shadow of doubt.

 _He was gay. Completely._

The revelation set him free, as mawkishly sentimental as that might sound. But that was exactly how he felt.

Harry gulped air faster and faster, huffing loudly, his pelvis rocking in perfect sync with Louis' stroking hand. He clutched Louis' shoulders, his fingers digging in, his head rolling back on the pillow, and Louis, still battling his urge to ravish Harry, looked at Harry's face to see so much pleasure that it blinded him. That was when he threw caution to its own devices, and hurled himself into pleasing Harry. But at his own pace. He wanted to be beyond special—he wanted to be impossible for Harry to forget.

"Baby . . . " Louis found himself saying quite naturally. "Slow burn."

But it was too late. Harry was close to coming . . .


	43. Chapter 43

Harry was unhinging Louis with his wild hip thrusts and garbled murmurings that Louis couldn't decipher. He was completely wanton, a Harry Louis didn't know. It only fueled Louis' fire. He could feel the moisture from Harry's pre-come, and he used it to slide up and down Harry's length, also rubbing his thumb over the head, which nearly put Harry through the ceiling. Louis knew what _he_ liked, so he just followed his own preferences, and it seemed to have a powerful effect on Harry.

The hot grip of desire was coiling in Harry's balls as they drew up, and Louis knew his touch to Harry's cock felt unfamiliar, and it was going to make the lad reach his pinnacle very quickly. For someone who had never had a hand different than his own down there, this had to be an incredible novelty.

 _How was he to exercise self-control with this sex God beside him? Harry, head thrown back on the pillow, moist full lips parted, chest rising and falling with a magnificence, wavy hair tousled about his face, giving himself up to the pleasure._

Louis was at a loss. The young man made his emotions do things Louis didn't think were possible. And what made Harry even more unbearably appealing was that he had no idea how profoundly he affected Louis. That was one of the most engaging things about him. How unaware he was of Louis' passion for him.

More pre-come spilled and spread over Louis' fingers, making him bite down on his lower lip, attempting to control himself, and then Harry's hip movements became very unsteady and erratic. Louis knew this meant he was very close. Harry was staring at him, his eyes wide with fear blended in with all the desire that was swamping him. Louis kept up his stroking, looking back at Harry, trying to signal to him with his eyes that it was alright—not to fight it. He knew Harry was concerned about letting loose, making a mess. But that should have been the last thing on Harry's mind. He should be giving himself over to the enjoyment.

And then, with a great groan, Harry erupted like a volcano. Louis felt him flopping like a fish underneath him as he continued to work his cock, which was spurting all over Harry's chest. It pulsed in Louis' fist, exciting him boundlessly. Louis had inched the sheet down in the final seconds so it would only hit their bodies and not the sheets. Harry convulsed, moaning and thrashing for the duration of his orgasm, also whimpering Louis' name like a mantra. Hearing his name coming from Harry's rapturous mouth as he reached climax was the only thing Louis wanted to hear for the rest of his life.

When it was finally over, and Harry's cock had at last stopped twitching, but remained more than half-hard, Louis grabbed some tissues from the drawer in the nightstand and wiped both of them clean. At first Harry was in a daze, not quite comprehending what had just happened. But when he came to his senses, he dabbed at a few drops that had landed on Louis' neck with a tissue. He touched Louis tenderly, with care as the rain splattered the windows.

"I'm sorry!" he said.

"Sorry? About what? Not your fault. It's not a bad thing anyway," Louis said of the way he'd been sprayed.

"I . . .didn't know . . . I've never . . . "

Louis nodded. "I know, I know. It's all new. No guilt or regrets allowed here." He snaked his way up to Harry's neck, burying his face in it as Harry had done to him earlier. He covered Harry's neck with kisses, something he'd been craving for the past weeks. His rigid cock brushed up against Harry by mistake, but Harry didn't openly acknowledge it, embarrassment coloring his face instead.

He didn't know what to do. Louis was obviously in need of . . . gratification, but Harry didn't know the protocol. Was he supposed to mention it? Just do something about it, like what Louis had done to him? Not wanting Louis to think he was selfish, he felt lost and floundering, tense and overwrought instead of basking in the afterglow of his orgasm.

Louis could feel the disquiet in Harry, and took it to mean Harry was feeling regretful about what they had just done. It filled him with unexpected hurt.

"Right. I need a cigarette," he said brusquely, and he drew his sweat pants on in one swift motion, curtaining himself with the sheet once again. Out the door he went, lighting up just before he opened the door, shirtless in the nippy air, storm and all. Maybe the cold air would ease his erection.

 _He needed a cigarette? But he hadn't even had sex!_ Now Harry was really flummoxed. Louis had acted almost cold toward him, then he said he had to smoke, and left. Something surely wasn't right with this. Harry donned his own sweat pants and slipped out the door. Luckily, the storm was petering out, the lightning and thunder in the distance for the most part, the rain just a light sprinkle.

Louis looked fabulous, stealing Harry's breath. He looked like a model in a magazine, bare-chested with his sweat pants low on his hips, rain drops glistening on his tanned flesh, barefoot, leaning up against a tree, cigarette between his teeth as he put his lighter into his pocket. He threw Harry a careless look when he noted the younger man emerging from the cabin, his eyes narrowed in wake of the cigarette smoke, then looked back at the valley he'd been gazing at before Harry's appearance. The fact that he only wore sweat bottoms somehow made him even more attractive and sexy. It was so dark in the valley that Louis couldn't possibly see a thing out there, and this made Harry wonder what he was thinking.

"You're givin' off some massive bad ass vibes," joked Harry in the most innocuous way he could manage.

Louis' eyes, hard as flint out of habit, softened when their gazes locked. This, Harry realized, was a milestone. Louis was softening for him more and more often.

Louis about split in two. He bent over, laughing hard, then threw his head back like he did only when something was truly hilarious. Catching his breath under a startled Harry's gaze, he said, "Son of a bitch. Massive bad ass vibes! That's either the best compliment or the worst insult I've ever gotten!"

Harry was pleased he'd made Louis laugh. "I love your bad ass self!" Harry chortled before he even gave himself time to think about it.

This brought more mirth from Louis. "Harry, you're killin' me!"

Harry had only spoken the truth, and didn't quite get why this was so funny to Louis, but it went without saying that it was much, much better to have a laughing Louis than a cross Louis.

"Sorry, didn't mean to be a buzz kill," Louis admitted a few minutes later. "I mean, that was a little inappropriate of me."

Harry was bewildered all over again. Oh! Louis had meant he'd ruined Harry's buzz after . . . after he'd come. By going outside to smoke.

"No, it's nothin' like that," Harry said lamely, not knowing what else would sound even halfway lucid in this situation.

"I'm a bad influence," said Louis.

"Why?"

"Well," a curl of smoke left Louis' lips and drifted toward the black sky. "I get you out here all alone in a Godforsaken isolated cabin, and then I proceed to . . . ." Louis struggled to find words that Harry wouldn't be offended by. "I proceed to . . . lead you into sin," he finished weakly.

"Oh, come on, Lou!" Harry was getting embarrassed again, annoyance creeping in too. "I'm not a little kid!"

Louis stopped puffing on his cigarette and just stared Harry down. "No . . . no, you're not. That's for sure," he said soberly. "If you were a little kid, I wouldn't be feelin' like this. You've got me all tangled up inside."

Louis walked back to the side of the cabin to dispose of his cigarette butt in the pail of water he kept for that purpose, Harry assumed. Harry watched him stride with confidence. The man walked like he ruled the world. He was so comfortable in his own body. There was so much Harry wanted to say to him, but he didn't know how to explain himself, even if he could find the words.

As soon as Louis was back, Harry started to plead with him.

"Lou, I don't . .. know anything about . . . this." He was trying to tell Louis that he didn't know what to do next. If he should make a move or . . .

"Don't sweat it, mate," Louis bowed his head slightly. "Remember, I don't _either."_

Harry wanted so much to apologize that he hadn't seen to Louis' needs, but he still hadn't been able to figure out how to word it right. He wanted to make Louis feel as good as Louis had made him feel, but didn't have the nerve to say it aloud.

"We'll bloody well navigate it together, Haz." Louis realized now why Harry had been restless afterward. He'd read Harry wrong. He'd have to be more careful in the future. Not assume things.

Those words about navigating it together took a hell of a lot of pressure off Harry, and he literally sagged against Louis in relief. Louis wrapped an arm around his waist.

"You look cute in just sweat pants," Harry said.

"Ditto."

This certainly had to be handled with finesse. Louis didn't know the first thing about having a relationship with someone. And the fact that Harry was male made it even more complex. Somehow he found the brass to say, "Harold, let's go inside and be spoons, yeah?"

Harry had no objections. When they were once again in bed, naked and spooning, Louis said, "I know it's fairly early for sleep, but we need to get up early tomorrow, for what I've planned."

"What's that?" Harry tried to speak normally, but his naturally lower pitched voice sounded uncharacteristically high in tone. That was because Louis' crotch was right there at his bum, and if that wasn't a distraction . . .

"I'd like to start workin' on a plan to catch that wild horse of yours. I already told you that."

Harry loved it that Louis referred to the mustang as his. He felt guilty though. What had he done to deserve that beautiful piece of horseflesh?

"Oh, yeah. I didn't forget. I was just . . . thinkin' of other things . . ." Harry admitted.

"I think we both were."

Louis' cock was hard and throbbing against his backside, and Harry was _seriously_ distracted.

"You . . . you didn't . . . um, like . . ."

Louis knew what Harry was referring to because his damn dick wouldn't stop jerking whenever Harry's bum moved the slightest bit.

"Like I told you before, we'll work it out. Don't worry about it for now." Louis' tone told Harry that Louis had decided they'd done enough for tonight, so he didn't push the issue.

Harry awoke at six the next morning to Louis' member still as hard as it had been the night before, and still resting in the crack of his ass, still twitching as if it had expectations. Moments later, Louis pulled his lower body back.

"You awake?" he asked.

"Yeah, just woke up."

"Sorry about, uh, well, you know."

"That's alright. Isn't under your control."

"That's for sure! Me little buddy has no control at all!"

Harry was thinking that it sure didn't _feel_ "little," but he wasn't going to comment. He had hardly looked at it when it had been exposed those two times because he hadn't wanted to get caught at it. He'd sure wanted to though.

"Let's get up, have a bite to eat, and then get to work on our plan," and with that, Louis sprung out of bed with his back to Harry, and put his jeans on, spinning around just in time to see Harry get out of bed.

 _Nice little body._

Well, maybe not _little,_ but hot as hell. Harry was not only taller than him, but his cock was humungous. Louis had thought his own was pretty impressive, that was, until he'd grabbed onto Harry's. Took the wind right out of his sails. He sure hoped Harry didn't just assume all guys were as big as he was. But, that wasn't likely, as he had to have seen other guys naked in the locker room in high school. Louis was far from small, but he wasn't packing a monster like Harry's either.

He'd been so fucking horny last night. He'd tried to tame the wild beast by going outside to have a cigarette, but damned if Harry hadn't followed him out there. And then tried to apologize for not getting Louis off. Louis knew they had a long road ahead of them as far as getting intimate went, and felt it would have been stretching it to do anything more last night.

 _Quit while you're ahead._

So they'd gone to bed, naked again, because it would be weird to wear sweats when they'd already been naked together in bed, and Louis didn't want Harry to think he was upset about how things had gone. So then his dick had been yearning for Harry all night long, and you can't very well be spoons with a hard dick, and have the little spoon not notice. So he'd had to suck it up and play dumb. He'd felt like an inconsiderate sod, but he was at the mercy of his all-too-eager member. Up against a bum that delicious, in no way could he talk himself out of a boner. So it was with great relief when he'd discovered Harry awake and found an excuse to back off in a hurry. He fancied that lad way too much. In a variety of ways. And his dick was advertising it for him. At least he'd apologized . . .

Disarmed by Harry's sleepy morning smile, Louis gave himself a mental shake of discipline and began explaining his tentative plans for the wild horses.

"We wait until they come for their daily drink, and we have to be sure we're concealed by heavy brush, and we can't be downwind of them, because they'll smell us. So we wait until they drink their fill, and just as they start to leave, we come gallopin'out of cover; you go more or less behind the mustang, and I rope him."

Harry's eyes were so green they made Louis' breath stick in his throat. "Sounds easy, the way you tell it," he said.

"Yeah, but it's not. You've already figured that out. You have to stay safe. And if you get run over by wild horses, you won't be alive long. You have to put your safety above all else. You'll have to follow me instructions to the letter. You can't end up gettin' injured or worse."

Harry nodded enthusiastically. "I will."

"And if for some reason that doesn't work, we'll have to work out another plan."

"Any ideas on what it might be?"

"We'll worry about it when the time comes. Let's just hope for now that it comes off without a hitch. It'll be dodgy at best though. Keep that in mind."

"How did you manage it all those times alone?" Harry wanted to know.

"Good point. A lot of plannin' and a hella lotta luck," Louis said modestly.

After a detailed plan had been laid out, they planned to go to the creek around the time the horses were most likely to show up. There was a window of time, and Louis warned Harry that they might end up having to wait for hours, or it might only be minutes. But they had to get there before Louis expected the horses' arrival so their presence wouldn't be detected.

A little later, after their morning bath and swim in the creek, Harry was sitting and looking down at the valley, trying to psyche himself up, and hoping he didn't screw up, when he saw Louis' shadow cross from behind him. All his senses sharpened, his muscles tensed, and his attention shifted completely to that shadow, and nothing else. Louis was carrying two sacks of grain, fifty pounds each, over his right shoulder. Harry turned to watch him go to the cellar to store it should wild animals come around at night in search of food. Louis had forgotten to do it when they'd arrived here. The man was so strong! Even after all this time working hard on a daily basis, Harry knew he couldn't carry all that weight at once. He would have had to carry one at a time.

He watched the muscles of Louis' shoulders roll under his recently donned tank top, admired the man's shapely, muscled legs, defined biceps, and most of all, his bum. It was a work of art, and Harry was sure he'd never see that kind of perfection again. It was so delectable that Harry yearned to cup it in his hands, squeeze it, kiss the plump cheeks. He shocked himself with his illicit thoughts. Louis turned him on—all the time, and it was now deeply ingrained.

"Do bears ever come around here?" Harry asked after Louis had deposited the bags of grain and returned to his side. The thought had been prompted when Louis had simply gone and gotten the bags, not asking for help.

"Now and then. I have a 44 Magnum in there," he gestured toward the cabin, "just for that purpose. Even with that caliber you have to aim very accurately to hit the central nervous system. If you don't hit the central nervous system, the bear wouldn't be killed instantly. But Harry, bears usually will not attack humans. They see you, and go away. Your chances of being attacked are one in thirty-six million."

"Honestly?"

"Yep. So don't worry yourself about it. We'd hear it and have time to have the gun at the ready before it could get inside the cabin."

Harry didn't like the idea of bears coming around, but Louis' words consoled him. He knew Louis wasn't just making it up.

When it was time to go, Louis asked Harry if he was up to it. The horses were saddled, Louis having made all the preparations, and had any supplies he might need in his saddlebag, his favorite rope at the ready. Harry had watched carefully, cataloging it all in his head, knowing that the more he knew, the more help he might be to Louis.

Louis wished Harry realized how much could potentially go wrong. How every move they made must be with perfect timing, or the herd of wild horses would be scared off, and catching any of them later would be many times harder after they'd gotten wise to the men's intentions. He didn't want Harry ending up being bitterly disappointed, but it was always a crap shoot. So many factors played into it. If the mustangs got suspicious for any reason, they would avoid the creek. Louis knew the odds of things going south were probably higher with Harry here. But no way was he going to deny Harry the joy of helping to catch the horse.

The silent communication and understanding they'd cultivated and shared at the ranch was carrying over, and could conceivably be of great benefit when the time came to coordinate their efforts and work as a team. All they had to do was share a look, and words didn't usually need to be employed. Now that their relationship was more intimate, Louis suspected that communication would improve even more steadily.

Already, after breakfast this morning they'd shared a few smiles, Louis sometimes waggling his eyebrows and making Harry giggle and blush. Harry knew exactly what Louis was intimating. Louis was simply, shamelessly flirting. Harry loved the promise that was behind it.

Their plan firmly in mind, they began their ride down to the valley to tuck themselves away in some particularly thick vegetation, where they'd be upwind of the mustangs when they approached the creek.

"Let's do it!" Harry had said enthusiastically, and the words echoed in Louis' ears. He hoped that sharing this experience would make their bond tighter, and Louis wanted nothing more . . .

Stationed where Louis had planned they would wait, they sat their horses, eyes glued to the spot back farther in the valley, about half a mile away, where the horses would appear and proceed to file to the creek to drink. Louis had seen them do this dozens of times over the years.

The horses would be cautious—they always were, because a wild animal is especially vulnerable when getting a drink. It was the time wild animals were most likely to attack them. Louis had himself and Harry situated where they'd be in the horses' blind spot when they broke cover in pursuit. Horses can see on both sides and every direction around them except directly in front of them and directly behind. That was where Louis and Harry would gallop up, hopefully, fast enough for Louis to rope the grey and white pinto before the mustang could get his wits about him and make a mad dash for safety.

Harry's heart pumped quickly and strongly, his mouth dry with anticipation. He sure hoped Saber didn't snort or do anything to call attention to them, and blow everything. Harry was tempted to loosen the reins enough so the gelding could graze, but he was afraid the mustangs would appear at any moment, and he needed Saber's head up so he could encourage him into a wide open gallop at a moment's notice.

They didn't talk, because Louis was afraid their voices would carry, so they didn't even whisper. Louis knew hand gestures would be enough to guide Harry to do what he needed him to do. It was all very straightforward anyway. Louis would run in front, and Harry would be close behind him in an attempt to hem in the mustangs, and confuse them, and maybe gain an extra second or two to allow Louis to use his rope.

It seemed they had been waiting for hours when in reality it was only roughly forty minutes when Louis spied the first mustang's head along the horizon, circling widely on his way to the creek, eyes and ears very alert, nose flared to detect any scent that might signal danger. The second and then third horse appeared, and Louis nodded his head silently at the mustangs to signal Harry of their presence, belatedly noting that Harry had already seen them. That was a good sign. Harry was ready and on the ball. He really hadn't expected any less from the lad anyway.

As the horses drew nearer, Saber stomped at a fly. It didn't make much noise, but it made Harry edgy. What if Saber whinnied when he saw all those mustangs? He wasn't prone to do that like some horses were, but with his luck, this would be the day. His heart knocked double time against his ribs, and he felt like he would surely die of stress before those mustangs got there. The feeling of anxiety was followed by nausea and dizziness. He knew it was just nerves. He just wanted the action to begin.

The creek was only about 150 feet from where they stood—enough space for them to get a good gallop going, and hopefully surprise the mustangs before they could duck away.

The approach took so long, and Harry was by now a basket case. The mustangs were walking, not trotting as he'd hoped. One by one they came within fifty feet of the creek, and Harry was sure he was going to wet his pants. The anticipation, the suspense was pulling at him, shoving him, yanking him by the throat. His eyes flicked to Louis for a split second to see utter concentration etched on the handsome rancher's face. Louis was poised, ready, and not a single muscle on his body moved.

The horses inched, step by slow step to the creek, looking around them, their ears flicking back and forth for any suspicious sound. They all paused, as if to conclude, as a group, that it was safe enough to drink. Harry saw the grey and white pinto in all his magnificence, several horses deep into the herd. This would make matters more difficult for Louis to rope him, because he'd have to somehow get around the others to get a clear shot. Harry was glad in that moment that he wasn't the one wielding the rope.

The horses at last reached the edge of the creek, and after one last look around, lowered their heads to drink. This part, Harry soon found, was the hardest. Louis had told him they would drink for about ten minutes, as they only came to the creek once a day. Those ten minutes were the longest ten minutes Harry ever wanted to face again.

Louis sat tall and motionless in the saddle as the first couple of horses finally had their fill and raised their heads in preparation to leave. These were followed by two more, and at that moment, Louis signaled to Harry to move in.

Louis leaned forward and low over Joaquin's neck, a cue to the horse to run as fast as he could. Joaquin took off so fast that Harry hardly saw more than a blur as he galloped off. In turn, Harry did the same with Saber, leaning low over his neck, as he had been trained in the same way, thanks to Louis, and Saber happily covered the ground fast enough to rival a beam of light, or so it seemed to Harry. Harry held his breath as he and his horse flew over the ground in Louis' wake, until Louis disappeared into the herd of mustangs, and Harry glimpsed the loop of Louis' rope twirling overhead . . .


	44. Chapter 44

It seemed to Harry like what happened next was in slow motion. In a blind panic, the mustangs had instantly scattered.. Harry maneuvered Saber in behind them as Louis had instructed him to. But not too close, to avoid being kicked, also per Louis' instructions.

The scariest part was when the mustangs turned tail and ran straight at him, swerving at the last instant to avoid ramming into him. Louis had warned him that this would be very unnerving. Horses will do all they can to avoid a collision, but when they are in a panic, much like people, they sometimes don't think clearly. Louis had laid it on the line and told Harry that he didn't have to do this if he decided not to. It carried a certain risk, but Harry was willing to take it, to do this together, with Louis.

A mustang or two did brush up against his stirrup, but not hard enough to cause injury. A glancing blow, a quick jolt as they lunged by, but it woke Harry up as to how bad it could really be if a fear-crazed horse were to collide with his own horse.

He'd lost sight of Louis in all the dust and wild hoof beats and desperate equines, seized with fear and intent on leaving Dodge. The dust was so thick that for a few seconds, Harry could see nothing. Then he saw him just ahead, just as Louis threw his loop. Harry urged Saber forward to try to get behind the pinto so the horse would have fewer options of getting away until the rope landed. But it was too late. When Harry finally caught sight of the pinto, he watched on haplessly as the horse threw his head, making Louis miss his shot, which likely would have landed where it was intended to. There was no way of knowing what a horse would do with his head when in a desperate situation, and so it was no one's fault. Just a woeful turn of fate.

Louis and Harry pulled their horses up and watched the beautiful pinto plunge away, full speed in two strides, even though his belly was full of water. Louis didn't even try to chase him, as the pinto was very fast, and Joaquin would have the weight of a human on his back, greatly impeding him, and with zero chance of catching up.

"Shit!" cried Louis, but no further curses came forth. Resigned, Louis gave a great sigh.

Harry and Louis exchanged a look as the herd sped off into the distance. Harry's heart was down in his boots. He was so sure Louis would get the mustang. But it wasn't as if Louis hadn't warned him . . ."dodgy at best," was what he'd said verbatim.

"Threw his head at just the wrong moment," commented Harry sadly.

"Yeah, sure did," Louis reined Joaquin back to the direction of the cabin, shrugging. "We tried," he said. "Now we'll just make us another plan."

Harry admired Louis' pluck, his decorous manner. Here was a man who had experienced defeat today, and probably plenty of other days, but was not wasting time pining over it. He was already making a fresh new plan. He was showing a positive attitude and looking forward. This was not the dour, moody Louis Harry had existed with on the ranch. This was an unfettered Louis, a more free-spirited Louis, an almost sanguine Louis.

"Don't let it getcha down," Louis advised, taking note of Harry's silence as they rode in comfortable companionship. "We have time. I'm hopin' we'll catch him while we're here."

"I was just admirin' you," clarified Harry. He supposed Louis had thought he was crestfallen from the failed capture, and he had been at first, but after analyzing it, Harry had silently applauded his boss for his cool-headed response to the disappointment.

"Admirin'? Whatever why?"

"You took it so well, and now you're already makin' more plans, not actin' depressed or anythin.'"

"I think . . . ." Louis took his hat off and scratched his head, running his hand through his hair before replacing the hat. "I think I really needed this vacation. It's already changin' me frame of mind," he returned.

"I agree," said Harry, and they rode the remaining distance in silence, exchanging occasional smiles. Every time they did, Harry's heart did a little celebratory flip.

 _Don't let me lose Harry._ That pesky thought was going through Louis' head again.

They'd had dinner and had prepared the cellar for the food they would be brought tomorrow. Long after dark, they'd sat outside and had gone over different possibilities for methods of catching the pinto mustang.

Louis had come to the conclusion that they would have to build a pen. Not just that, but it would have to be hidden. The mustangs could not know about it or all the work would be for naught. There was a place Louis had in mind, and he and Harry would visit it the next day. A lot of bushes covered an area up against the rocky valley wall. The wall in that particular area was too steep for a horse to climb, and if they built a fence along that wall, concealed by the bushes, and in some way were able to drive the horses into it, the horses wouldn't realize they were inside a fence and trapped until it was too late, and the gate was closed behind them. It was far-fetched, but Louis had faith they could come up with something workable and worth a try.

"Shadow Bear would sure come in handy," offered Harry. "She could help me to 'herd' the mustangs, as much as it's possible to herd a wild horse."

"True. But I wouldn't bring her here. Too many steep drop-offs. I wouldn't be able to live with meself if sommat were to happen to her. And the wild horses could kick her too, if she got too close."

"Yeah, I hadn't thought of that," Harry felt a little on the stupid side. There were too many dangers here for a dog. A beloved dog especially.

"I miss her," he said, not realizing that in his reflections he'd said it out loud.

"So do I. I do every year when I come here," declared Louis. "We'll see her again soon enough though. Although, I wouldn't mind spendin' an extra week here with you."

Now in bed, naked, under the covers, Harry vibrated and his pulse pounded.. It was just a given now that they wore no clothes to bed, and didn't try to hide their bodies from each other. Kind of a silent understanding between them. Another week here with Louis would put Harry over the moon. What had he done to earn this good fortune?

Harry got a thrill every time Louis made a move on him. And that hadn't happened yet today. He craved Louis' kisses a hundred times more than he craved chocolate. Louis was joking more, acting so much lighter than the dead-serious person he so often was when working. Harry wished he had the privilege of claiming it all as his own doing. He wanted to be the reason for Louis' change in attitude. The notion made him feel powerful.

"So . . . I don't know where this is going . . . " said Louis thoughtfully. Harry wasn't sure if Louis was still talking about the mustangs, or the two of them. If it was about them, they had already discussed this, but not in much detail. Harry's stomach was in knots at the idea of Louis bringing it up again. He feared making a mistake of some sort.

"Are we goin' to ignore the elephant in the room?" Louis' voice was a little more raspy than usual. A hint of exasperation seemed to hang in the air, and Louis' sigh underlined it.

Harry was pretty sure he knew what Louis spoke of, but decided to play it safe.

"Not sure what you mean," he said cautiously.

"I think you do."

Everything felt staged as they each struggled to broach the subject. It was as if they were wild animals, circling each other, testing the waters. Neither one wanted to be the first to speak up.

"A cavalier attitude won't get us far," said Louis.

"Cavalier? Who's being cavalier? Surely not me!" Harry was shocked that Louis would even consider him being blasé about this.

Harry looked at him with an expression so open and honest that it snagged Louis' heart and tweaked it painfully. Louis composed himself with a concerted effort. He had to keep Harry's desirability to the side so they could discuss this rationally.

"Well, maybe cavalier wasn't the best term, but what do we do? Just wing it?" Louis demanded suddenly. Now Harry was more than flustered.

"If we care about each other . . . " Harry's fragile, fragmented voice faded.

Louis waited. Instead of injecting his view, taking the reins, so to speak, he wanted Harry to assert himself, say something concrete. And even though he knew he was asking too much, he couldn't seem to stop. Harry gave honest opinions, but he was also flighty and skittish when his insecurities kicked in.

"If we care about each other, what?" Louis asked.

"Then . . then yeah, we can just wing it, yeah?"

Time to stop torturing Harry and taking more responsibility for this conversation onto himself. Louis eased into it.

"I suppose so. I'm tense though. This is all so new to me."

Harry could relate. Boy, could he relate! Then he had an idea.

"Want me to massage you a little bit?" he asked. "To ease the tension," he added quickly, not wanting Louis to take that in the wrong way.

Louis flipped over onto his stomach without a word. So Harry, slowly and unobtrusively as he could, lowered the sheet to Louis' waist.

"I'm good at this," he said, then blushed. It seemed everything that tumbled from his mouth sounded off. Or suggestive.

Deciding to keep his trap shut, Harry began to knead Louis' shoulders. The man's muscles were bunched and hard with pent up tension that had gone untended for too long. Harry wondered if Louis had _ever_ had a massage. As he continued to work, Louis slowly began to relax, then rolled back over, sheets still at his waist, and contemplated Harry.

He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he was going to say.

"Thank you for the massage. I want you to know that I care . . . I do. But . . . no one can say what the future might bring. We both . . . have to be willing to accept hurt, if it ever comes to that. We're playin' with fire here. We also need to think about the other hands back at the ranch."

Harry swallowed hard and nodded. If this thing between them got serious, how would they handle it once back home? If they came out to the other hands, eventually the people of Pecos would find out, and how would they react? Would Louis lose their respect? Would people stop buying horses from him? Worse yet, but in a different sense, what would their own families say? Louis had no parents, but he had relatives. And what would Harry's mum and sister think? There was a lot to consider, and it boggled Harry's mind.

If they were going to have just an occasional fling, it could probably be arranged in secrecy, but if Louis wanted to come out, well . . . instant chaos was all Harry could foresee. No one would know how to conduct themselves around Louis and Harry, and it seemed to Harry that the camaraderie the hands had shared would suffer. What if everyone ended up hating them, or at the least resenting them, being off-put and repulsed?

Harry wanted something more with Louis than just fooling around now and again. He knew that much for sure. Seemed like Louis did too, but his comment about hurt being a possibility made Harry nervous. He didn't know if he could enter into something like this, just to have it end when he was at his most vulnerable. What if he started feeling strong emotions, and then Louis just walked away, ended it? Is that what Louis was insinuating?

But at least Louis had made an attempt to discuss it, get it out in the open, and that said a lot, although it didn't seem they were getting anywhere. That was partly Harry's fault, as he didn't have the faintest idea of what to say. He was, above all, afraid of saying the wrong thing.

Resisting Louis was one thing he wasn't prepared to do at the moment. Louis was kissing him again, drugging him, taking all reason away and replacing it with sweet, pure desire. The kissing was hotter than it had ever been to date, Louis' lips massaging his own, starting with a closed mouth, then deepening the kiss after a while of teasing, rubbing his tongue against Harry's. Moaning into his mouth. Little, tiny, plaintive moans that shattered any remaining restraint.

Emboldened, Louis eased himself over Harry, having flipped him over onto his back. He supported his weight on his forearms and peered down at Harry, who, as usual, looked like a Heaven-sent angel. Harry balked—just a little bit. Their cocks were alongside each other, both very erect.

"Baby, it's alright," the words poured like honey from Louis' mouth. "Just let me know if I'm making you fearful."

 _He'd called him baby._

"No, I want . . . I want this."

Louis wasn't sure what it was that Harry thought he wanted, but he did know he was going to continue with the slow pace that was necessary for both of them. They could delve into this gradually, and he hoped that things would just happen as they were meant to, naturally. Yeah, they were gay, but there had to be a way to make things easy for each of them.

 _Just wing it,_ they'd agree on. Okay, well then, that's just what they'd do. Let nature take its course and see where it led them.

Harry loved that Louis was taking charge without being overbearing. He, Harry, needed guidance and gentle handling. But where would Louis get his guidance from? Harry felt empathy for him.

"Maybe this requires some chocolate," Louis had a twinkle in his eye. By the light of the lantern, Louis retrieved his jeans and pulled out two chocolate bars.

"Ah, there's where your stash is!" exclaimed Harry, who had relaxed somewhat.

"Nah, me major stash is elsewhere," Louis teased mischievously.

"And I reckon it'll remain a mystery," concluded Harry. Louis nodded impishly.

They ate the chocolate slowly, savoring it and having a stare-down contest at the same time. Louis noted that Harry didn't avoid his unwavering gaze. He gave it right back. It was almost unbearably sensual. Louis was especially waiting for Harry to lick his fingertips after he was done eating. And he did. It made Louis hot every time.

Louis grabbed the wrappers to the candy bars to put them in the trash bag, for fear of attracting vermin, then came back to bed, only then realizing he was naked. He'd been strutting around, not a care in the world, completely naked. It was one thing to undress in a hurry and get into bed, but this was quite another matter. He could feel the heat of Harry's eyes on him.

He approached the side of the bed, and seeing Harry sprawled there, all stretched out, and pretty much at ease positively made his mouth water. Harry, waiting in bed for him. An angel. His angel. Without having a clue, the lad was tantalizing him. And it dawned on Louis in that moment that he was done for, utterly smitten.

"Better be careful—lookin' so fetchin' like that could get you into trouble," Louis mock warned.

"What am I doin?'"

"Oh, you're doin' plenty, and without even tryin.'"

Harry was blind to what Louis was talking about, since he was just being himself, and hadn't any idea how attractive and inspiring he was. That, to Louis, was a powerful aphrodisiac. But there was no way he could define how he felt to Harry. It was useless. Harry was just being Harry, and it soothed Louis' nerves as well as excited him to see that Harry seemed to be beginning to chill out a little. Or a lot. Louis was pretty sure this was the most relaxed he'd seen Harry since they'd been here.

Louis laid down next to Harry, wanting desperately to roll over on top of him, but at the same time, he couldn't get enough of the sight of Harry. The neglected fire was throwing shadows on the wall, bouncing off Harry's shimmering green eyes, and Louis longed for a camera. Even if he had one though, he probably wouldn't have been able to catch the essence of what he saw right here, in this room, gazing at Harry's wide eyed trust, and maybe, high hopes? Louis wasn't sure. All he knew was that Harry was beautiful.

Harry remained rock solid enthralled with Louis. He wanted to spill it all—how he couldn't tear his eyes away when Louis had walked across the room naked as the day he was born. That fabulous bubble butt when Louis walked away, the narrow tapered waist and the gloriousness of his manhood when he returned. The thick, muscled thighs, narrow hip bones and bashful smile when Louis must have realized he'd forgotten to cover up.

Holding each other on their sides, clinging as if something might try to pry them apart, Louis went for broke and rolled the two of them so that Harry was underneath him. The heated kisses became a virtual frenzy of lips. Exquisite torture. Harry required artfulness and savvy because he was just too precious to ravish without careful seduction coming first.

Their erections touched delicately, What a challenge it was to resist coming on strong and heavy! Louis was still attempting to check himself and proceed slowly and prudently. He sprinkled moist, soft kisses that danced all over Harry's neck, then he sucked it. Harry was breathing roughly, hitches in his breath, so Louis knew the effect this was having on him.

Louis began to roll his hips, causing their erections to rub together. Harry responded immediately, rocking his hips up to meet Louis. There was a lot of pre-come. Louis didn't know if it was all his, or both of theirs mixed together, but it was enough to make things slippery, and it sensitized the both of them.

They were essentially dry humping, holding onto each other with urgency, nuzzling each other's necks. Louis, jarred from how eagerly Harry was behaving, wanted more than rubbing off on each other. He hovered over Harry, looking down at him. Harry's eyes had that sleepy, heavy lidded look that told Louis he was soaking this all up and was almost past the point of no return. Louis was dangerously close himself.

Harry brushed his hand against Louis' cock and Louis let loose an "Ahhh,"amidst all the thrashing of their bodies against each other.

"Harry . . . stop. You're gonna make me come."

"I'm not even touchin' you."

"You don't have to. Just bein' this close to you . . . naked . . ."

Harry, apparently, was not capable of expressing himself in words because he didn't comment. He realized Louis wanted to hold off as long as he could, so he lay there, in complete awe as Louis erupted, his hips thrusting against Harry, having lost all ability to regulate himself. "Fuck!" Louis cried. He came long and hard, spurting copiously, coating both their chests with it. He rode it out, making strangled noises in his throat. When he could function well enough to look down through the bleary haze of the aftermath of his orgasm, he saw Harry's cock twitching and jumping. He'd come without Harry even touching him! And ah . . . Harry needed to come.

After struggling with his embarrassment at losing control and then wiping them both clean with tissues, Louis could hardly walk to dispose of the tissues. His legs were numb, his thoughts jumbled. _Harry did that to him._

He laid back down beside Harry, sliding his fingertips slowly up and down Harry's chest and sides. Fluttering a little bit like a butterfly. Harry was a love sponge, grabbing onto him, letting Louis know his fingers were very welcome.

Louis lowered his head, licking Harry's nipple, watching it pucker as he sensitized it, hearing Harry gasp. He sucked it into his mouth next, twirling his tongue on the tip, and making Harry squirm like a snake underneath him. He did that for a while, then proceeded to the other nipple.

By now, Harry was past frantic. He whimpered and twisted, needing the magic of the release he remembered last night. Louis kissed the flesh that was exposed outside of the covers, not putting any pressure on Harry. Every time he started to kiss lower than the sheet that was around Harry's waist, Harry startled. So he kissed Harry's stomach little by little, dipping lower and lower, crooning softly to Harry to calm him. What to do?

Louis was nervous—he'd never done this before. Girls had done it to him, and he'd seen it in porn videos, but doing it himself was a world away from the same as those other things. By far the biggest problem was, he wanted to give Harry pleasure, and Harry was nothing but a bundle of nerves himself. They were a sad lot.

Harry was holding his breath—Louis could see that. Harry didn't know what to expect. Louis was going to make sure this was going to be memorable, if only he could get Harry to relax a little. His fingers ghosted lower on Harry's belly, then he rubbed the flat of his palm back and forth, just above Harry's pubic line, trying to seek permission.

Without a prior warning, trailed his fingers lower still, and closed his hand over Harry's thick cock, but very lightly, hardly touching the younger man.

Harry came undone. "Ah!" he cried, his natural reaction being very pleasing to Louis. He tightened his grip, encouraged by the positive reaction.

"Oh my God, oh my God," Harry was mumbling, not able to lie still, fisting the sheets, not knowing what to guess what might come next. Taking a bracing breath, and not knowing how this would turn out, Louis literally flowed under the sheet, his tongue snaking out to lick the head of Harry's cock before Harry could protest. He was afraid, not only for Harry, but for himself too. He'd never tasted a man's cock before. No need to worry though. He quickly found he liked it. Very, very much. Even the short spurts of pre-come. _Especially_ that.

"Oh! Oh!" Harry looked so gorgeous by the light of the lantern and the ebbing fire, the spots of red excitement coloring his cheeks highlighted in the glow. Louis took a second to look up at him and drink him in, appreciate him. Then he lowered his mouth, and took as much of Harry as he could into his mouth. He was only able to take half. Not only was he completely inexperienced, but Harry was huge, and combined, these factors hampered Louis, but he didn't show it. He kept at it, sucking steadily, gauging Harry's every response.

When Harry's hands naturally, instinctively went to the back of his head, not pulling or applying pressure, but just resting there, Louis was inspired in a big way. He started getting down and nasty, letting go, needing and craving it. His lust was taking over completely. _This was Harry,_ and he'd waited too long for this. He sucked at the head, discovering straight away that it was very sensitive. But it was short-lived. God, how he wished it could last longer!

Harry could not bear this anymore. He cried out, trying to let Louis know, without words, what was happening, but Louis turned a deaf ear, continuing to lick and suck, letting his tongue flutter around the slit-like opening. In what seemed like seconds, Louis sensed Harry's imminent climax, and he sucked harder, wondering how this must feel to Harry. He hoped it was good enough.

Harry's orgasm shook and rocked the bed. Louis opened his mouth slightly, letting about half of Harry's release dribble out, because he wasn't sure how he'd feel about a mouthful of it. The last thing he wanted to do was gag. But he needn't have worried. He hungrily sucked the rest from Harry, swallowing avidly.

Harry continued to moan for some time, and Louis stayed where he was, licking now and then, sucking lazily, allowing Harry to come down at his own pace. When Harry became too tender, he stopped, albeit reluctantly.

When at last he crawled back up to Harry, they held each other. Harry couldn't get any words out, and Louis understood how overcome this beautiful young man was. His heart swelled and he held Harry to him tenderly.

"I could've done that all night," Louis said from the center of the silence, next to Harry's ear as he kissed his neck. He knew Harry was blushing. He didn't even have to see his face to know.

"I didn't . . . I never thought . . . " Harry attempted to express himself, be couldn't accomplish it.

"God, I wanted it so bad," Louis murmured. "This was one of my best fantasies, and I just got to live it."


	45. Chapter 45

There was no indication of anything fizzling out. In fact, both of them were still mostly hard.

Harry was astonished at how excessively mind numbing the experience had been. How Louis had known just what to do—what felt good, and what felt out of this world. Louis had uncovered what Harry liked just by Harry's reactions.

As they drifted in and out of sleep, Louis was too aware of what would happen come morning. Tomorrow's arrival meant someone would be bringing them supplies. And by now, he was certain Leo had told everyone about himself and Harry, and how they'd put their arms around each other, making a rather flagrant statement. And with the others being well aware there was only one bed in the cabin . . . well, the secret was out.

He hoped it would be Johnny that delivered. Johnny had seemed to sense what was going on, even though he'd never articulated it. And maybe Louis could have a private word with him . . .

Yeah, he needed to talk to Johnny. Louis would mention it to Harry in the morning, but for now, they were relaxing and taking a lot of comfort in each other. The lust remained, gently cloaking them, but for now they just held each other.

Harry was eager to learn about sex. But he was downright anxious about the outcome and possible consequences of this "relationship." Guilt wracked him again. He'd shown up at the ranch, talked Louis into a job, and now he was ruining Louis' entire life. If he'd just walked away when Louis had refused to give him a job, it would have saved Louis all this hassle and vexation. Also, if he hadn't been so self-absorbed in the first place, he wouldn't have permitted this to happen at all. He'd just been so attracted to Louis. Was he hurting Louis, and possibly Louis' reputation as a rancher? Was he being terribly selfish?

Louis, on the other hand, was in a blissful state of mind. He hadn't done a very convincing job of resisting Harry. For some reason, that made him want to smile. He tried to tell himself he didn't give a fucking damn about what anyone else thought. If things worked out, and he had a real chance at Harry, it would be more than worthwhile. But it would have to be mutual—they'd have to feel the same way about each other. If one of them didn't return the feelings, it could be disastrous. Suddenly, he didn't feel quite so blissful anymore. These thoughts were why Louis vacillated so much when it came to Harry. If he knew what was best for both of them, he really should send Harry back tomorrow with whomever brought the supplies . . .

Early the next morning, they sat on the mountain top in their usual spot, sipping coffee and talking, easy with each other. Most others in their place might have avoided eye contact and kept the subjects to safe topics. But it felt as if they'd both been waiting for this day in their lives, not really knowing what it was they'd yearned for, but having found it, they knew it was what they'd been looking for all along. The doubts Louis had had last night were already fading fast.

"Me restless yearning is completely, entirely gone," Harry announced proudly. "I know I already told you that, but there isn't a trace of it left. I didn't reckon I'd ever escape it."

Louis smiled and slipped an arm around the younger man. "I don't want anyone hurt," he repeated the words that he'd uttered before to remind Harry of how precarious this really was.

Harry felt that sting of sadness again, but had to admonish himself that this was very new between them, and Louis would have to be convinced that he was serious, and not playing games. He felt shaky inside though, at the possibility of Louis not feeling as deeply as he did. He wasn't sure what it was he was feeling, but he did know Louis made him feel light-headed and unsteady. All he wanted to do was stare at Louis, touch Louis, kiss Louis. No one else held his interest the way Louis did. When Louis told a story, or joked around, Harry was captivated, and he remembered hardly being able to behave normally in front of the other ranch hands. Louis was like a very interesting, suspenseful movie to Harry. He didn't want to miss a second of it. If he took his eyes away, he might miss something.

On their days off, Harry thought about how Louis would sometimes walk around in Vans without socks. This had entranced Harry. He loved Louis' little quirks just as much as he loved his conventional ways. The man was a mixture of both free-spiritedness and conservatism. He could be light, free and funny as easily as he could be stern, single-minded and inflexible. Harry was discovering Louis' playful side could extend to himself since they'd been here, on this mountain. And that had Harry feeling gratified. Louis had joked around mostly with the other hands while at the ranch, but here he seemed to be a lot less inhibited with Harry. Harry felt more accepted now by Louis than he ever had before.

 _What Louis had done last night_ —Harry could still hardly believe how he had felt totally incapacitated, and at Louis' mercy. He'd loved every second of it.

Harry felt vulnerable and self-conscious because a single glance or the slightest touch from Louis could make him hard as a rock. Maybe that was why he balked when he saw that one of the ranch trucks had just pulled up on the road. The horses were saddled and ready, and Harry wondered how he'd manage to mount Saber with a full-on boner.

Louis seemed a little petulant as he mounted. Harry watched as the rancher glanced toward the truck with reluctance. Harry wondered why, and then it dawned on him that Louis wasn't crazy about the idea of one of the ranch hands coming here, possibly knowing about them. He looked almost resentful.

When Louis saw that the person driving the truck was Johnny, he let out a huge sigh of relief.

"Harry," he said before they were close enough for Johnny to hear. "I'm thinkin' of tellin' Johnny about us. Your thoughts?"

Harry smiled. Ah, so Louis was going to come out to Johnny! He couldn't have been more delighted.

"Good idea, that. Is it what you really want?" he asked the rancher.

"Yes, if you do as well." Harry nodded his head eagerly in agreement.

They rode to the truck silently for the rest of the short distance, lugging their dirty laundry to be taken back to the ranch for Nora to wash. Somehow, Louis felt he needed Johnny's seal of approval.

Johnny clapped Louis and Harry on the back, his sharp eyes trying to read theirs.

Louis loaded the food and supplies onto Saber, asking Harry if he could manage alone. There were only two large bags, since all they needed this time was food. They still had plenty of clean clothes. Louis directed Harry to take it back to the cabin, that he would be there shortly, but he needed to talk to Johnny.

Harry's eyes questioned him, and Louis nodded very slightly, then shooed Harry away. Harry had gotten his answer. Louis really was going to do this. Louis needed to be alone with Johnny with no audience. Harry understood, and he rode off, and trusting his boss to take care of it on his own.

As soon as Harry was out of earshot, Louis turned to Johnny. He needed to get this over with fast, before he chickened out. The look in Johnny's eyes told Louis the older man was aware that something was brewing and imminent.

Louis cleared his throat and fidgeted, playing around with Joaquin's reins just to keep his hands busy.

Johnny waited a minute or so. "Out with it," he finally said bluntly, causing Louis to startle just a little bit.

"Is it that obvious?" asked Louis.

"Yup."

Louis removed his hat and set it back on his head to kill time, then realized that time wasn't something he had much of. Johnny was like a hawk, watching and waiting.

"Did ah . . . Leo um, say anythin' to you?" asked Louis.

Johnny shifted his weight so he stood with one hip cocked as he stroked and fiddled with his mustache. "No, what did you have in mind that he mighta said to me?" he returned.

"Well, um . . . " Louis was losing his courage. Face to face with Johnny like this was much different than just thinking about it earlier. It was so . . _. real._ "Never mind. Thanks for bringin' the food." Louis began to turn away in preparation to mount his horse when he felt Johnny's big hand settle on his shoulder.

"Not so fast, son," he said. Johnny didn't call Louis "son." Not in front of the others, and hardly ever when they were alone. He wouldn't do anything to make anyone think he was disrespecting Louis. And Louis was, after all, his boss. But he liked to think of Louis as more of a friend. And he sensed Louis needed support right now.

"Somethin's eatin' atcha. You sent Harry back to the cabin. You were intendin' to say somethin' to me."

Louis sighed, realizing he wasn't going to get out of this, and hating himself for even trying.

"I reckon so," he conceded. "You see . . . " and then Louis realized he had no idea _how_ he was going to tell Johnny—what words he wanted to use. Anything that came to mind sounded lame and weak and even cowardly.

Johnny saw how burdensome this was for his dead friend's son, who was, in so many ways, so much like his father.

"Whatever it is, you can tell me, Lou."

That helped a little, but not enough. A string of words flashed through Louis' head, but none of them sounded right. He could be subtle, take his time, but that could mean they'd be here all day until he finally spit it out. Or he could be blunt, and probably shock Johnny's socks off. He could just hear himself.

 _Harry and I are gay—together._

It was almost funny. Almost, but not quite.

"Johnny, I . . . I can't find words." By now Louis was trembling, leaning up against Joaquin because he could hardly stand on his own feet.

Johnny decided to give him a break. Help him along a little.

"I think I know what this is about," he said, watching Louis' eyes, gauging his response.

"You do?"

"Yeah. It's about Harry, ain't it?"

 _Wow._ Louis hadn't had a clue that Johnny had the foggiest idea of the subject he'd wanted to bring up. Not able to catch it in time, he gasped. Then he gazed at the ground at their feet, not able to connect with Johnny's eyes.

"Uh, yeah . . . it is."

"I've known for some time," said Johnny so casually that it made Louis find difficulty catching his breath. "Ever since that day the two of you both ended up at the creek. Well, I suspected even before that, but let's just say I knew . . . somethin' was loomin.'"

Louis was dumbfounded. Johnny had noticed they'd both gone to the creek? Even though Louis had ridden off in the opposite direction? Then he remembered how Saber had come galloping in without a rider, and Louis had given Harry a ride back on Joaquin. Still though, Louis had the distinct feeling that Johnny would have known even if that hadn't happened.

"Lotsa other little things too. I don't think anyone else caught 'em, but I did."

"Things like what?" Louis forced himself to ask. He was actually terrified to hear what Johnny was going to say.

"Oh . . . you watchin' Harry, Harry watchin' you. You both did it when you thought no one was lookin.'" Johnny chuckled softly to himself. "You two still circlin' each other, or has anythin' happened yet? And you don't hafta answer me. Hell, you're the boss, so _of course_ you don't hafta answer me," Johnny corrected himself.

Louis cleared his throat again and lit up a cigarette. He tried to regain control of his emotions. "You were me dad's best friend, and now you're my best friend, I hope. At least that's how I see it. So yeah, I want to answer you. It's tough though." Louis took a long drag and watched the smoke circle around his own head.

"I know," said Johnny. He'd said all he could say—the rest was up to Louis. It didn't take but another minute for Louis to speak up.

"Yeah . . . yeah, Harry and I . . . we're . . . _discoverin_ ' each other, I reckon you could say."

Johnny didn't look disgusted or even a little upset. He merely nodded in his calm, collected way, and Louis knew in his heart that Johnny had known all along. Probably even before Louis or Harry themselves had any idea of what was to come.

Louis struggled with the embarrassment, the shame, but then reminded himself that he didn't give a damn what anyone thought. That's what he'd told himself, anyway.

"You're a damn bloodhound," he ruminated.

Johnny smiled. "I like studyin' people, seein' what makes 'em tick."

"Guess I didn't give you enough credit."

At this, Johnny himself lit up a cigarette, and Louis sensed Johnny must be at least a little bit uneasy, even though the older man's slow, mellow ways seemingly belied that.

"You gonna tell the other hands?" asked Johnny, narrowing his eyes through their mutual smoke.

"Eventually, yeah. If it lasts. I'm still havin' conflictin' feelings about it. I only decided to talk to you about it this mornin,'" admitted Louis.

"If you want me to tell 'em—" Johnny began.

"No," Louis interrupted firmly. I'll do it. It's me obligation."

Johnny nodded his understanding. "Well, unless Leo says somethin,' nothin' will get said. Wanna tell me how Leo found out?"

"He invited himself to stay here for the duration. Even after he saw there was only one . . . bed," Louis said the last word reluctantly as a blush heated his cheeks. "So I put me arm around Harry. I think Leo almost pissed his pants."

Johnny laughed. "I imagine that got the message across alright," he said. "You know, I always wondered why you didn't hook up with a woman for more than one night," Johnny said carefully, not wanting to embarrass or offend Louis. "Now I know why."

"Yeah, well . . . " Louis' face reddened again. "I guess it took me a long time to admit it to meself."

Johnny clapped his boss on the back again. "Well, I'll let you get back. And," he continued, treading prudently, "I jus' wanna say that you couldn't have found a nicer guy than Harry."

Johnny turned abruptly then and got back into the truck. Louis knew he was trying to spare Louis more discomfort.

Louis gulped. He hadn't known what to expect when he told Johnny, but he certainly hadn't expected such complete acceptance. There had been no shocked reaction, no disapproval that Louis could detect. Johnny had taken the news calmly, and if he was disturbed, it had not touched his face or mannerisms.

"Thanks, Johnny," Louis mounted Joaquin, waving Johnny off as the truck pulled back onto the dirt road. Louis' throat felt a little tight, his vision blurred a bit, and he could hardly believe how smoothly that had gone. God bless Johnny.

Back at the cabin, Harry was impatient, straining at the bit, dying to know what had transpired. He doubted Louis had gone through with it. Not that he doubted his boss. It was just that this was such a significant, extraordinary, unprecedented circumstance, and Harry knew Louis must have expected a strong reaction from Johnny. Johnny was, after all, very old-fashioned and a Texas cowboy. That alone would discourage Louis from being gutsy enough to say the actual words.

Harry watched as Louis unsaddled Joaquin and set him loose to graze with Saber, putting everything he had into not demanding what, if anything, had been said.

Louis, at last, after what had seemed ages, approached Harry with a slightly cocky grin on his face. He was looking rather satisfied.

"Please tell me!" Harry busted loose from his constraints. He couldn't stand it anymore. He _had_ to know.

Louis strolled over and sat down, and Harry noted he took his sweet time.

 _Little shit,_ thought Harry. Now he knew where the nickname had come from. Louis was enjoying making him wait and wonder.

Louis leisurely stretched his legs out in front of him, and Harry couldn't keep himself from staring at those muscled thighs.

"I told him," Louis finally said.

Harry gulped. "You did? You really did?"

"Yep. And here's the kicker. He was fine with it. Took it like a champ."

Harry's eyes bulged. "He didn't freak out?"

"No," and Louis recited the entire conversation back to Harry. "And at the end, he told me I couldn't have found a better guy than you," he concluded.

Harry's smile was slow in coming, as he was absorbing the reality of it, but when he did smile, his dimples dipped in even more than normal.

"Johnny's the best," said Harry, suddenly feeling a little awkward.

"You know," Louis said after a moment, as Harry tried to recover from his shock. "He said he knew a long time ago. Even before we went to the creek that day. He said he's observant and noticed things about us that the others didn't."

"Like what?" asked Harry, having regained his voice.

"Us starin' at each other. I never knew it was noticeable."

"I thought I was bein' sneaky!" Harry was horrified that he'd been found out. "And he said he caught you starin' at me too?"

"Yeah. Don't get too big of a head though." Louis punched Harry lightly in the arm, and Harry realized he was kidding.

"What about everyone else?" asked Harry.

"We'll worry about that later, when it gets closer to the time for us to go back. But in the meantime, Johnny said he won't tell anyone. Evidently Leo hasn't opened his mouth. At least not to Johnny. And you know how word spreads around that place. If one person tells someone sommat, _everyone_ knows within a day or two."

They ate some breakfast, then decided to spend the day talking. A plan for catching the mustangs could wait until tomorrow. Right now, they both felt it very important to get to know each other more in depth. They knew about the surface stuff. It was the deep, under the surface things that they craved discovering about each other.

They told each other stories about adventures they'd had as kids, what telly shows they'd watched, what books they'd read and what their dreams had been once they had reached adulthood.

"So, you worked for a veterinarian. Why did you quit?" asked Louis sometime later.

"I wanted to get out of there, go find new experiences. It was also a dead end job. No opportunity for advancement."

"Why Texas though?"

"Do I have to tell you?" Harry refused to be anything but honest with Louis, but this subject was making him squirm.

"No, you don't have to, but I'd like to hear it," was Louis' answer. There was a bit of a tease in his voice, and Harry could almost think that Louis knew why he'd chosen Texas. But there was no way he could. Unless he was reading Harry's mind, and, come to think of it, sometimes Harry believed that was totally possible.

Harry smiled at the thought. "Cowboys," he almost cringed as he said the word.

Louis laughed immediately. "Really?"

"Yeah, I was wantin' an adventure, but also had the hope of meetin' a hot cowboy. And guess what? I did."

Now it was Louis' turn to squirm.

Harry was like that on the ranch too, mused Louis. Almost like a child, wanting to soak up new experiences, seeing things for the first time. Louis didn't think he had ever been that innocent, and he wasn't sure why he got a kick out of it.

"You've turned me whole world upside down. Know that?" asked Louis on the spur of the moment. "What are we doin' here Harry?" he added a few seconds later.

Harry knew what Louis was referring to. Not here, on the mountain, but _together._

"Things're gonna get complicated. Especially when we get back on the ranch."

Harry wished he could think of an easy answer. There wasn't one.

"I know," he said, not knowing what else to say.

"So many things standin' in our way. Why freak everyone out when we don't need to?" inquired Louis.

What did he mean by that? That he wanted to remain secretive, assumed Harry. Hell, both Leo and Johnny knew. What would it hurt to freak out a few more people? But maybe Louis was talking about family. Harry knew his mother and sister would probably be fine with it, but it didn't sound like Louis' remaining relatives would. It just made sense—they assumed Louis would follow in his father's footsteps, and that _didn't_ include being gay. Harry couldn't blame him for being worried about that. If Louis was speaking of people in general, they could manage to keep it a secret easily enough.

In the next instant, Louis began kissing Harry without Harry even knowing the man was stalking him. Everything about this kiss was magnified. Maybe it was the anticipation that Harry had experienced, wondering when the next one would come. He wanted Louis' taste on his lips again, wondering if it would be as good as the other times, even though they'd kissed many times. He had hardly been able to withstand the suspense.

Maybe things were magnified because of the silence of the mountains. Every touch sent shivers through his body. Louis' hands in his hair, stroking his cheeks, tracing his lips with a single finger.

When they stopped to try to catch their composure, Harry said, "Its dark out here," And it was—very, very dark. When had that happened? Harry could hardly see his hand in front of him. They had been talking literally all day. They'd been munching on chips and cookies too, so they hadn't even taken time out for a proper lunch.

"If you get lost in the light, it's okay—I can see in the dark," was Louis' answer. "Seemed appropriate," he explained a moment later. "It's some lyrics from one of Niall's songs."

"I like those lyrics," decided Harry after running them through his head a couple of times. "And can you really see in the dark? When you rescued me! You never told me how you did that!"

"I told you, I can really see in the dark." Harry knew Louis must be teasing him.

They kissed again, and it got really intense and really emotional this time. Louis' lips dragged across his, massaged his, his head tilting to change the angle. They'd break apart, stare at each other, and start all over. All the little gasps and sighs wouldn't be heard if it wasn't for the silence of the mountaintop. And the sound of their greedy lips was sensuality at its best.

"We shouldn't give a fuck what anyone else thinks," murmured Louis into Harry's lips, echoing his earlier thoughts. Was he trying to reassure Harry, or himself? Harry wasn't sure.

Truth was, Louis was tired of overthinking. He'd cycled thoughts in and out of his mind, and they circled his brain with torturous scenarios. And he wanted it to just stop so he could ravish Harry in peace.

He joined Harry in gazing at the stars that looked close enough to touch. They found themselves dipped into a world that felt magic, if that wasn't being too trite. Louis himself must be magic because he'd led Harry to this wonderful, beautiful mountaintop, and had also led him into love . . . it had been creeping up and had finally seized Harry, whether he was ready for it or not. Now, if only Louis would love him back.


	46. Chapter 46

Louis got up and brought the lantern outside, and as he approached, Harry saw that his expression had turned so smoldering that if they'd been anywhere else but on a deserted mountain top, Harry would have feared a public indiscretion.

Before he sat down, Louis circled the younger man, like a predator assessing his prey. It made Harry feel like he was under a microscope, yet he was flattered at the same time. He felt desirable. Pursued. Hunted down in the best way.

"Tommo. Tommo the tease," Harry said softly as Louis lowered himself to the ground, melding the sides of their bodies together.

Louis smiled. "I can do more than tease," he promised.

A bolt of desire wedged itself into Harry. Harry knew it couldn't be dislodged because this bolt potentially had barbs. It could tear him apart. The reality of what they were doing with their hearts and bodies was starting to hit him. He was afraid, but even more afraid of already being in too deep to save himself.

"You're like me, you're thinkin' too much," Louis commented, seeing the contemplative look on Harry's face. Harry couldn't deny it. He nodded. "Yeah."

"Wanna talk some more?" asked Louis.

"It's all we've done all day," Harry murmured.

"We'll talk as much as you need to. We'll do this the right way," and sincerity gleamed in Louis' aqua eyes in the soft, gentle glow of the lantern. He'd also brought a blanket, and he draped it over them both, as he'd done before. It made Harry feel cared for, looked after.

Louis tossed a candy bar at Harry— one of his favorites. "Thanks. What do you want in return?" asked Harry. Uh-oh. He'd just blown it again. Letting things like that come out of his mouth. Even though he hadn't meant it that way, it had sounded so sagacious. Or rather, wanton. Louis just waggled his eyebrows. He was so good at that. "I'll go heat up dinner," and Harry watched as Louis swaggered off to the cellar. As he disappeared into the night, Harry again wondered if he really _could_ see in the dark.

The Chinese food was perfect for tonight. Harry loved chew mein, and ate more of it than anything else. Sweet and sour pork, Kung Pao chicken, wontons and spring rolls.

"Cookie outdid himself again," Louis said as he licked his fingers provocatively, even though he'd brought out plenty of napkins. He made sure Harry saw him do it. Harry looked away, blushing, but Louis noticed his eyes returned almost immediately, ricochet-like.

"I hope you realize you've done that before too," Louis stated.

"What?"

"Licked your fingers. With cannoli. It was right sinful."

Harry hadn't even realized he'd done that, but it caused a stirring in his sweat pants that Louis had watched it. He laughed because Louis had a way of pouting and tantalizing him in the best kind of way; the man's words and mannerisms to go with it were fetching.

 _Was Louis saying his finger-licking looked as good as Louis' own?_ If so, Harry knew his pain.

Harry remembered how Louis had worn sunglasses today, and he'd looked ravishing. At ease, leaning against a tree, his eyes mysteriously shaded made him look dangerous, unpredictable . . . and delectable. Harry had quite the appetite when it came to Louis. An appetite he'd never had before for anyone. You never knew what Louis had up his sleeve, either. He could spring something on you in a flash, or he could be languid and indolent. The man was always ready with a surprise. Louis could reel you in with no effort, and then turn around and demand that you come to him. He had played those games all day today, and had kept Harry on pins and needles, because with Louis, you never really knew what to expect.

The kissing had transpired off and on. When it did, it lasted a thousand forevers. Harry found himself practically holding his breath whenever he had even an inkling that Louis was even thinking of kissing him. Feeling this vulnerable was addicting and bewildering. It was uncanny that just a few months ago he'd been totally at loose ends, not knowing where life would lead him, and all alone. Now he felt he'd found all the answers to his restless yearnings; the ranch, happiness, peace of mind, and most of all, Louis.

Now they began kissing yet again, and Harry opened himself to being drugged all over again. It always seemed he was submerged into a floating dream world, now and again only briefly bobbing back to the surface of reality. There was nothing else in existence but their mouths and their ragged breathing.

The current kiss went from gentle and slow to deeper and emotional, to needy and then to urgent. All in degrees. Harry's head was swimming. Louis seemed to be able to express everything from affection to fervor with his lips. He held Harry's head and devoured him, Harry a more than willing victim.

The crickets surrounding them sang a rhythmic chorus, as if prompting them to continue, to get lost in the passion.

"You seem to fill . . . fill a place in me that I didn't know needed to be filled," gasped Louis between kisses. Harry wanted to believe him, but was it really true? Or was it just passion speaking?

"I want to trust you. I'm willin' to take the risk. But you said you don't want either of us to be hurt," Harry spoke from the heart, knowing Louis had had serious reservations, and wanting to get things out in the open. "And I think that's holdin' you back."

Yeah, it's holdin' me back, you're right about that. It wouldn't be right to get involved if one of us was only after sex, and the other was after . . . maybe a forever." Louis was noticeably restive now, tense and on guard.

Harry wasn't sure how to respond to that. He had to be really careful. He couldn't let on to Louis how gone he was for him, but he also didn't want to give Louis the impression that he was only after sex either. This was very touchy. and an impassioned subject.

"I'd never forgive meself if I hurt you, and I'd be devastated if you hurt me." This statement of Louis' was profound, and it almost knocked the wind out of Harry. So . . . there was still no definitive answer. It seemed all they could do was either stay away from each other, or see where things went.

"What I want to say is . . . I'm willin' to take the risk too," Louis winced like it pained him to say the words. Pure fear touched his eyes.

"Are you sure? You look so . . . ambivalent."

"I reckon that's because I'm afraid, but you can't escape fear in life, can you?" Louis eyes showed a strange luster, a shimmer that Harry hadn't seen before. They glimmered almost as if tears were on the horizon.

"True. So I guess we both have to imperil ourselves." And that is just what they had to do if they wanted to be together while they were here on this mountain.

As if in mutual agreement, they snuggled up. Louis positioned himself so he was sitting behind Harry, his arms encircling him, their bodies pressed close. He gently gathered Harry's hair, pulling it aside so he could spread kisses on the back of his neck. Kissing and light suctioning of his mouth made Harry shiver, but when Louis began to lick as well, a shudder wracked Harry's entire body.

Realizing his beard stubble was dragging a little on the soft skin of Harry's neck, Louis spoke. "I haven't shaved since we got here," he announced. I know me beard's raspy. Want me to scrape it off?"

"No," answered Harry without pause. "I like . . . _love_ the way it feels. Sensual," he said the last word a few seconds later as if he'd had to prime himself to say it. Louis felt his cock flex when Harry used the word. Harry was busy remembering the pleasant burn of Louis' stubble on the insides of his thighs last night.

"Just let me know when it gets to be too much, deal?"

'Deal," was Harry's muffled answer. Muffled because his hand was covering his mouth. The pleasure of Louis' oral attention to his neck was making him feel overcome. Tingles ignited him everywhere.

A moment later, Louis forced Harry's torso backward, urging him to relax against him. His hands began to caress the Cheshire lad's hair, tunneling through it, his fingers fondling the soft curls. He buried his nose into all the luxuriousness and inhaled deeply. The shampoo Harry used had combined with Harry's body chemistry to create the most exotic scent. _Exotic like Harry._

"You smell so good, like sunshine."

"Well, you _are_ sunshine," Harry shot back. "And I don't mean that sarcastically."

Louis felt warmth infuse his cheeks, especially when he recalled that Harry had said something similar before.

Harry's whole being was gentle, Harry was easy. His smile, his slow speech—well, it was surreal sometimes. Louis thought of all the times he'd wanted to touch Harry when they'd been working on the ranch. Just touch him, just for a moment. He wanted physical contact. And he had no one to talk with about it. He had to keep these cravings inside. And it had gnawed away at him. Now he was free to touch him whenever he wanted. It felt like the biggest privilege. He knew Harry wouldn't evade him, so this was some serious freedom.

The way Harry eased through life with his attentive ways, always listening, even if he didn't really know the person. Showing interest in others, those evergreen eyes intent on a person's face. That rare consideration, let alone his beauty, and it was enough to bring a person to their knees. His open honesty and sincerity had fascinated Louis from the very start. Even when he had begged for a job, he had never lost his dignity, or his gentlemanly manner.

This being up against Harry's back was arousing Louis to his very limits. He was pretty sure Harry could feel his erection through their clothes.

"You turn me on so much that you caused me to come faster than I ever have last night, and you didn't have to do a thing but be there," Louis whispered into Harry's ear as if someone might hear him. "You're the only one who's had that effect on me."

Harry blushed furiously.

"Come on, Haz. If we're gonna be intimate, you have to stop bein' so shy!" Louis laughed softly. Harry was so endearing.

"I'm sorry, I'm just not used to . . . talkin' about it."

"Bein' around me, I think you'll lose your modesty pretty quick. I'll sweet talk you, and maybe dirty talk you. Anythin' you want."

From what Louis could see of Harry's face, he looked flustered and at a loss for words. But Louis could also see he wasn't offended. In fact, despite his shyness, he looked pleased. Harry obviously _wanted_ to speak freely about whatever subject was brought up, but he was tentative because of his lack of experience. Louis leaned forward, craning his neck around to gaze at Harry's reactions, which never failed to entertain him. Harry glared back at him, feigning irritation, but actually loving every minute of this.

Louis played along. He took his cell phone out of his pocket and began to pretend to fiddle with it, holding it to the side so Harry could see it in his peripheral vision. Harry knew it didn't work up here, and besides that, the battery was dead. He'd been enjoying the attention and now Louis was deliberately ignoring him.

"What can you possibly do with that?" he asked after a few moments. "Put it away," Now _Harry_ was playing with _Louis,_ giving him a hard time.

"Well, what am I gonna do with me hands?" asked Louis.

"Um . . . put 'em down your pants?" Harry quipped.

Louis laughed out loud. "I swear, it's already workin.' You're gonna be givin' me a run for me money before long." Louis shoved his phone back into his pocket, hugging Harry even tighter to him.

Harry was proud of himself. He'd actually made a suggestive joke! And he found it hadn't killed him.

They continued to make lame jokes for a while, and Harry held his own, experimenting cautiously. It was fun, and it felt good to flirt.

When Louis suggested gently that they go to bed, Harry didn't hesitate. He'd been waiting for this. He'd been sexually aroused for the last couple of hours, knowing they'd soon be naked together again.

Wordlessly, they raced each other to see who could get undressed and into bed first. It was nearly even, and, both laughing, they just naturally melted into each other's arms once in bed.

"I like this new side of you. Or maybe I should say,this _hidden_ side of you?" Louis prodded him.

"You're bringin' it out in me. I've never been like this before."

"You've always been super inhibited? With other people?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Do you like this? Messin' around and jokin'?"

"I do . . . you know, I really do. It makes me feel like we're gettin' closer all the time."

"If only I could temper me lust a little better," Louis smiled sheepishly, throwing just a hint of a teasing tone into the mix.

Harry was too bashful to tell Louis he didn't _want_ him to temper his passion.

"Want a cuppa?" Louis asked a little later.

"Not bothered," Harry said.

"Okay, then," and Louis prepared the tea, heating it with the little bit of flame that he fanned and encouraged from an ember in the fireplace. With Harry as a distraction, he kept forgetting to feed the fire. His own internal fire was always taking priority.

When Louis returned with their tea, he found Harry sitting in a chair he'd found in the corner that he hadn't noticed before. He'd grabbed a pair of track pants and put them on when Louis had gotten up to get them both tea/

"Why'd you do that?" Louis asked, feeling a pinprick of what, _hurt?_ That Harry was no longer naked in bed, waiting for him? That he'd put track pants on, and was sitting up in the chair? If he was to be honest with himself, that was sure what it felt like.

"Sit in the chair? Because I'm afraid I'll spill hot tea on me or the bed," Harry lied. He'd actually done it to test Louis—see if he tried to get him back in bed, or tried to guilt him into it.

Louis stood in front of Harry, leaned over the chair, and placed a hand on each chair arm, incredibly close to Harry, and said, within inches of his face, "You aren't gonna get away." He waited for Harry's response, his interest really piqued now. This was fun; this flirting and testing of each other.

Harry experienced instant arousal that was much more intense than the circumstances seemed to call for. But he didn't want Louis to know. Submissive as he usually was, he tried to get up and slip away, finding himself knocking into Louis' solid, unyielding body. Even so, it felt good, and he sensed some euphoric sensations. Having Louis so close, hemming him in . . . it was a serious rush. He was rock hard. Body contact with Louis was a bad craving of his. He tried several times to get up, only to bump against Louis again and again. He even tried pushing him, but Louis not only didn't budge, he was like a brick wall.

"Bullshit. I'm claimin' your space, and you don't like it."

It wasn't that complicated. Harry had thought they were playing around, but he couldn't read Louis' face. He'd slapped on that "try me" look that Harry had seen him use at the barn dance with guys who stared a little too much at Harry.

"Wait . . . why are you mad at me?"

Louis' heart melted, as much as he tried to deny it. "Haz, I'm not mad at you. I'm givin' you a hard time again. You gave me a hard time by sittin' in the chair, you know."

Harry couldn't argue with that. So he simply didn't. He smiled, trying to make peace, having no idea what reaction he elicited in Louis. Louis felt boneless, weak. Harry's smile was a weapon that there was no defense for. Really. Unfair. The tingles in Louis' stomach curled and whipped around, and he was rapidly losing control. Caught off guard, he handed Harry his tea and backed off quickly and gingerly.

He didn't want to try to explain how he felt, of his desire. That would be over the top because it was so extreme. How could he possibly explain it?

Harry eyed him warily. First the older man had confronted him about the chair, and now he was recoiling.

Louis sighed and dragged a hand down his face. "You are the most _exasperating_ person! I thought I was being rather frank about wantin' you in the bed. But I was _too_ frank, I guess."

"Well, you're not the most diplomatic person I've ever met," Harry said dryly.

This caused Louis to laugh again. He didn't think he'd laughed as often in months on the ranch than he'd had while enjoying these few days alone with Harry. /Harry was naturally funny—and even funnier because he didn't know it.

"Do what you want," Louis grumbled as he got into bed and slid into position to sit up to sip his tea. Harry knew he was too clumsy to achieve that without spilling the tea all over the place, and infuriating Louis, as well as giving him second degree burns, so he was just going to have to take his chances about remaining in the chair, and hope Louis didn't decide to get the sleeping bag out.

A few minutes later, Louis finished his tea and threw a cynical look at Harry.

"Almost done," Harry uttered.

The wicked smile Louis turned on him made Harry get hard again in less than thirty seconds. He could not wait to get back under those covers! They had no fire, and it was getting chilly. Louis looked so cozy, all snuggled down into the blanket, only his eyes peeking out. _So inviting._

Trying not to give Louis the satisfaction of thinking he was rushing, Harry finished his tea at his usual pace—like a snail. Louis was trying to snag his eyes with his own, and Harry knew that if he looked back, they'd be having another staring contest again. And those always excited him sexually. He wasn't sure _why_ , since they didn't even touch when they did it, yet it was still somehow so _intimate._ _So intense._ How did Louis manage that? Did he have magical powers or something? Does Superman see in the dark? Probably. So he likely had other powers that he was cleverly putting into use. Rubbish, Louis was human. Or was he?

Harry took both their cups and put them on a shelf randomly, not even paying attention to what he was doing. All he could think about was sliding into bed.

"Stop," ordered Louis just as Harry reached the side of the bed. Louis sat up in bed, gazing at a bewildered looking Harry.

"Let me explore your body." Harry's eyes grew so wide Louis thought they might pop out of his head. Louis gave Harry no time to adjust to this abrupt change in plans. Harry stood there, bemused as Louis ran his hands over his chest, examining him with a very focused look on his face. Louis' hands palpated Harry's biceps, triceps and then forearms. Squeezing, testing. Harry was so much more toned than when he'd first come to the ranch. There were actually muscles there now. Louis' breathing quickened and he felt a little light-headed.

Harry could hardly stay standing. His hands moved to Louis' shoulders, just to keep himself upright because Louis was doing things to his libido that he didn't fully understand. All he knew was that enjoyable didn't come close to describing it, and the heat building in his abdomen was terribly disconcerting.

Louis got to his knees, and kneeling on the mattress, he placed his hands flat on Harry's chest and kissed Harry's neck, sweetly at first, and then his mouth got greedy, the kisses grew moister, and then finally, wet. The kisses went from not much hotter than chaste to sloppy and needy, escalating to sucking. Then Louis covered Harry's chest as well with equally sloppy, wet kisses and sucks, paying a lot of attention to Harry's nipples because he knew Harry loved that, seemed to itch for it when Louis' mouth got near. Louis meticulously recalled everything that had seemed to turn Harry on the times they'd been alone.

Harry's head spun in a delicious way, and the feeling plunged clear down to his balls. He looked down to see his nipples, fully erect and rock hard, wet from Louis' mouth, and his cock hardened even more than what it had been a moment ago. It flexed against his track pants, pre-come soaking the front of the pants. But he didn't care. All he could think about was Louis' mouth.

Louis was now kissing and sucking his way down to his belly. Harry felt sure that if Louis didn't stop soon, there would be nothing left of him but a dollop of pudding on the floor. Louis sounded like a thirsty dog lapping at a bowl of water. He made sucking noises all over Harry's stomach, positively shameless in his passion. Harry would have blushed had he not been so turned on.

The next thing that happened paralyzed Harry. Louis suddenly jerked Harry's pants down, and, of course, Harry was not wearing underwear. His erection popped into view, bobbing in all its splendor, bumping his stomach and pointing straight up.

Louis didn't stop his gasp, but let Harry know, without words, how he felt. A moan was issued from his throat at the sight of Harry's shaft that was surely the most beautiful thing Louis would ever see for the rest of his life. He'd known Harry was huge from the hand job he'd given him last night, but _seeing_ it defied description. It was gorgeous—as gorgeous as the man it belonged to.

Harry was gasping himself, but for different reasons. His knees felt weak and wobbly, his pulse accelerated, and under Louis' gaze, he shrunk back. Half a step backward, and Louis pulled him forward again. His expression tilted things to the obvious side—Louis liked what he saw. Relief flooded through Harry. He wanted nothing more than to please Louis. But the fact that Louis was drinking him in with his eyes had now created another problem. Harry wanted to be up against Louis, not standing here, on display.

That thought was banished in an instant. Louis drew his finger lightly against the flesh of Harry's cock, and Harry went into "touch me more" mode. He closed his eyes, fighting the urge to grab Louis to him, get into bed and hug him hard, allow Louis all the touches he wanted.

Harry heard Louis take a deep breath, wondering why Louis didn't take his cock into his fist. He wanted it so damn bad. He had a terrible urge to touch Louis in the same way, offer him that same raw pleasure. He was surely going to implode if Louis didn't touch him with more substance _soon._

Louis had taken that deep breath because he'd been steeling himself. Harry didn't know that though. Harry's eyes were still closed, soaking up how Louis' soft touch was better than anything he had ever experienced before when he felt something wet and soft taking the place of Louis' fingers. He gasped and his eyes flew open. He saw Louis' tongue protruding from his lips, barely touching his skin. The rancher was licking him! Somehow Harry had thought the other night had been a one-time thing—that Louis had been overcome with passion, but that it wouldn't likely happen again.

Now, Harry had heard about things like this from other guys, including the other ranch hands. But he'd thought maybe they'd been exaggerating, trying to make themselves look good by saying that a women had . . . done things with their mouths to them. He couldn't imagine it had really happened. Now, it was happening to _him. Again._

After a few experimental licks, Louis screwed up his courage enough to move to the tip of Harry's cock and lick it tentatively. He'd loved it the first time, so there was no reason he wouldn't love it now, he told himself. Still, he shook with nerves. He screwed up the courage and sucked the head into his mouth.

"Ahhhhh!" Harry spurted straight up into the air causing Louis' mouth to slip off. Louis had not been prepared for it to happen so fast, and he just watched on in fascination as one spurt after another erupted and shot at least three feet into the air, only to land on the top of Louis' head.

There was no humor in it that Harry could see, as he was thoroughly humiliated. Yet Louis laughed hard. He allowed Harry to finish his climax, slipping his mouth over Harry's cock head, urging him to allow Louis to milk out what was left of his orgasm. Harry closed his eyes, hardly able to believe this was happening. The sensation was overwhelming.

"We'll have to work on your endurance, babe. But for now, let's get into the shower. Me hair's right sticky. Oh shit! We don't _have_ a shower!" What a dim wit he was! They had a bucket of bottles of drinking water right outside the door, and Louis promptly went outside and dumped one of the bottles over his head. Well, that helped to tamp down his libido a little. Only for about three minutes though, and then his member inflated again. Toweling his head, Louis walked back into the room.

Louis was buzzed about the way he'd loved mouthing Harry, and how he'd wanted more. He was somewhat disappointed that it had ended so quickly, but the fact was, they had an abundance of time. There was no hurry for him to discover all the different delights he might find in pleasuring Harry orally. He looked forward to it.

Thinking of how eager he was, it dawned on Louis that Harry had just come, meaning his second orgasm would probably be at least a little slower in materializing. He licked his lips as he thought about how turned on he'd gotten while licking it, and only having a few moments to suck it before the end had come about.

He wanted more, and he wanted it now. Louis' passion and lust was taking charge, urging him to overcome his hesitancy. He dropped to his knees in front of Harry . . .


	47. Chapter 47

Smothered in his own lust, Louis looked up at Harry, seeing that deer- in –the- headlights look in the younger man's eyes. Okay, so maybe he was moving too fast. Louis' sex drive had really kicked in hard, and it was Harry who had inspired it. Still . . . he needed to get a grip.

Louis got back up, pretending he'd been looking for something on the floor, which was really lame, and an extremely poor excuse, because Harry gave him a blank look as if he wondered what planet Louis was from. Harry was also pale, and Louis could tell that it had been too much, too fast, to expect that they should do anything more than they had already done tonight. The poor guy was still more than half hard, and perplexed by Louis' unusual behavior. Confusion was the dominant emotion on his face.

Harry lightened up once they were in bed. Relaxation came slowly as Louis coaxed him with sweetness by rubbing his head, his chest with a tenderness in those calloused fingers that you would never guess would be possible. Harry had tried not to look at Louis' erect member, but it was a pretty far-fetched idea, because it was pointing straight up at Louis' chest, and seeing it was keeping Harry's cock mostly hard too.

It was Louis' attitude, tolerant and understanding, that assisted in calming Harry's nerves. Louis acted like it was no big deal, so that made things a lot easier on Harry. He didn't have much ego, but what little he had, had been crushed when he'd lost control like that. He couldn't stop thinking about it. Louis acted as if it was just a small obstacle that they would overcome, and thus helped to bolster Harry's confidence once again.

They cuddled, and Louis was especially gentle, taking Harry's embarrassment into consideration and in stride. Harry's apology in his roundabout, bashful way was embraced tenderly, then Louis had waved his hand as if to brush it away. "Happens to everyone in the beginning,'" he said casually. "It told me sommat I really like to know—that I turn you on enough to make you blow that fast."

Sheepishly, Harry avoided looking at Louis' face. He still didn't know why Louis had gone to his knees a little while ago, and then had acted like a kid who'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"I don't want this to ruin our friendship," Louis blurted out, not even knowing himself why he picked this time to say it, just knowing it had been on his mind so much lately. Bad timing.

Harry was aghast. "What? You don't think that would ever happen, do you?"

"I don't know, but I've heard of it happenin.' If it doesn't work out, sometimes people don't ever feel the same about each other again. That really spooks me."

Damn, but Louis wanted to suck Harry again. It was almost as much on his mind as what he was trying to discuss with Harry. He had a feeling he could do it for hours and never grow tired of it. But his mind couldn't concentrate fully on two things at once. He needed to stop his brain from multi-tasking, or he might say the wrong thing and really get himself into trouble.

"Let's dim the lantern," Harry's voice cracked just a little bit.

"Dim the lantern? Why?"

Harry didn't answer, looking around at clothes strewn here and there.

"You can't dim it with clothes. They could catch on fire," Louis warned him, sensing Harry planned on draping something over the lantern.. "And you obviously want it darker in here. Why?"

It was already pretty dim. Louis wondered why Harry needed so much darkness. Should he ask him, point blank? Or leave it up to Harry to disclose his reason? Firelight would have been gentler and mysterious, thought Louis. Its romantic glow might have made Harry a little more at ease, a little more daring.

He waited, and Harry continued with his silence, looking worried and unsettled.

"I don't know . . . " Harry began, and then stopped short. It was as if Harry wanted to hide in the dark.

Louis wasn't sure he understood Harry's state of mind, and so he offered words of comfort. "I don't know either, Harry. I'm flyin' by the seat of me pants too, remember."

"But you have some idea . . . of what to do. I . . . don't."

Now Louis was pretty sure he fully understood. Harry wanted badly to participate, to give, and Louis could see it in the pleading look in his eyes. He smiled and gathered Harry close.

"We have time, Haz. Don't worry. We'll navigate this labyrinth together."

"Me hand . . . " Harry tried to ask Louis, in a very vague, hesitant way, what he could do to help Louis with his sexual frustration.

"No hurry for anythin,' love," he assured Louis. "We need to take things slow. Slow burn."

Harry's face was buried in Louis' neck again. "But . . . I want to make you feel . . . like you made me feel," he stammered, his voice riddled with embarrassment.

Louis smiled into Harry's hair. "A little at a time. I think enough happened tonight already. This isn't a contest, you know."

They _were_ moving too fast, in Louis' opinion. He'd almost blown it tonight by deluging Harry with oral sex. He wanted things to be as natural as possible, and rushing Harry wouldn't accomplish that. Louis wanted to keep Harry in his life, and if something were to blossom between them, to the point to where they fell in love . . . mutually, Louis was terrified that if, for some reason it didn't work out, that Harry would quit his job and run, and then he'd very possibly never see him again. His mind was racing, examining different scenarios.

But what was really the shits was that he couldn't express this to Harry, because he'd already hinted strongly to Harry that it was too early to be thinking of forevers. What a clusterfuck he'd gotten himself into!

Instead he simply said, "I want you to stay in me life, no matter what happens." It probably didn't make a whole lot of sense, considering they'd been talking about sex, and it not being a contest. He'd probably flummoxed Harry thoroughly.

Louis' mind was getting ahead of him again. People often complained that he would say unrelated things out of the blue while engaged in conversation. But that was only because Louis had been thinking to himself, getting further ahead in the discussion, not realizing he hadn't voiced his thoughts aloud. That was when some seemingly random thing would burst from him.

"I'll stay in your life . . . if you want me to." Harry hoped this sounded like a promise, as that was his intent. He didn't know why Louis would say "no matter what happens" on the end of his own sentence, and it sounded so ominous, as if Louis _expected_ something to happen. Something bad.

Even though they had tried to talk, had in fact been talking all day, there was still a lack of communication. Louis had been trying to tell Harry in his own indistinct way that he had hopes for their relationship. Harry had tried to do the same thing, yet they couldn't quite follow each other in a comprehensive way.

And so, silence ensued, each left to his own thoughts. Thoughts that went in the wrong direction. Harry thought he was being brushed off, and Louis couldn't discern what was in Harry's head. Something had changed in the blinking of an eye. He'd told Harry he wanted him to stay in his life, but it seemed Harry was now drawing back. When Louis went to put his arm around him, Harry dodged him.

Well, that was the first time _that_ had ever happened. This time it was Harry's turn to get some fresh air. He was out of bed in a flash.

"Don't you go gettin' yourself in trouble again!" admonished Louis as Harry donned pants and shirt and slipped out the door. There was no response from Harry.

"Haz, I don't wanna have a row!" Louis yelled after him, hoping for some kind of reaction. Harry quietly closed the door. No way was Louis letting him go out there in the dark again. Harry was way too clumsy, and last time he'd almost killed himself.

Louis rushed out the door, but Harry was already gone. Panic rose in Louis' chest faster than he could draw a breath. He knew Harry wasn't foolish, but the guy had a track record of being ungainly and inept, depending on the situation. And in this situation, with Harry being dead set on getting away from Louis, he was more likely to be, well, a bit ungraceful. Or a lot.

Scanning the area, Louis didn't see any shadows. Well then, there were only two possibilities. Either Harry was hiding, or he'd gone down to the valley. The obvious choice, if Harry had gone down, would be where they usually went down. Harry was familiar with it, and it wasn't steep. Louis hoped to God that Harry was being wise, and therefore that would be the route Harry would choose.

Not even halfway down, he bumped right into Harry. He heard Harry's exasperated sigh as Harry deftly sidestepped to get away from him, and promptly fell. Right on his ass. Louis, fighting the urge to laugh, grabbed Harry's wrist and pulled him back to his feet. "Alright?" he asked.

Harry ignored the question. "How'd you know where I went?" he demanded. Louis decided not to answer. Let Harry believe he had magical powers to find people in the dark. Maybe it would discourage Harry from trying this again.

"Come on, Twinkle Toes. Back to the cabin," ordered Louis, pulling at Harry's wrist. Harry resisted. He reminded Louis of some women he'd known that he'd considered pains in the ass. Pouting, running away, and then refusing to relent. No wonder Louis didn't care for women! And now he had to tolerate Harry's insolent attitude, having no idea what had set it off. Harry continually braced himself against Louis' pull, making it tough to continue up the hill.

"Oi! Look here!" Louis was fast running out of patience. "What made you get a bug up your ass?"

"Nothin.' I don't wanna talk about it."

"It had to be sommat!"

Harry didn't want to tell Louis what had upset him, because it would sound like he was surly because Louis seemed to be adamantly against any kind of commitment, and he didn't want Louis to know that it hurt him deeply. He didn't want to be that vulnerable.

So they trudged back to the cabin in silence, Harry staying just out of Louis' reach. Louis had given up trying to pull him because if Harry wanted to spend the night out here, Louis was just about ready to let him. When they got to the cabin, Louis took a deep breath.

"We both . . . articulated that . . . we didn't take this . . . thing lightly," he spoke in fits and starts, afraid of messing up yet again. "So if I said sommat you didn't understand, I want you to tell me about it so I can address it."

Harry didn't want to mention that he was really bothered that Louis had said he wanted him to stay, _no matter what happened._ That phrase bothered the hell out of him. It sounded suspiciously like a cop-out to him. Sounded like the rancher still wanted him around to mess around with, even if there was no relationship. Is that what he had meant? If so, Harry wanted no part of it. If Louis was trying to escape anything other than secretive trysts that meant nothing more than getting sexual relief, Harry didn't even want to be near him. Harry walked stiffly into the cabin, avoiding Louis as if the rancher was crawling with lice.

"You wanna tell me what this is all about?" Louis was at the end of his tolerance.

"No . . . it doesn't matter," hedged Harry.

"You're fuckin' wrong about that, Haz! It matters if it causes a rift between us. And that's _obviously_ what's happenin.'"Louis was disappointed and frustrated. Harry was holding something back that was key to his current unhappiness—and how could Louis make it right if Harry wouldn't disclose it?

" _What did I say?"_ Louis shouted. "What did I say to cause you to storm outta here, and now you're refusin' to talk to me?"

Harry balked at Louis' raised voice. People didn't often yell at him. There was no reason for people to yell at him anyway. He was so mild that he rarely raised anyone's ire.

"No matter what happens! That's what you said!" Harry practically whined, and hated himself for it.

Now Louis was bewildered.

"What exactly does _no matter what happens_ mean?" demanded Harry, with a rare show of defiance.

Louis wracked his brain, shaking his head to try to clear the cobwebs that must be blocking his memory. _He'd said he wanted Harry to stay in his life, no matter what happened._ He still evidently wasn't digesting what Harry was trying to communicate to him. He'd thought it was a nice thing to say—a reassuring thing. Letting Harry know he didn't ever want him to leave.

"Well, if we should decide, or some outside factor decides for us that we couldn't continue, I'd still want you 'round. I don't want you to leave," stressed Louis.

That should be explanation enough.

"But . . . it makes things sound so . . . _uninvolved._ So unimportant," struggled Harry.

Louis shook his head again, but things didn't clear up much.

"Okay, maybe I'm bein' too cautious. I'm just tryin' to protect the both of us."

He could tell Harry still wasn't taking in exactly what he was saying.

Louis plowed on, determined that Harry would understand his intentions. "Let me put this another way. I'm not plannin' on anythin' splittin' us up. I don't plan on anythin' bad happenin. I can assure you of that. I wanted to convince you that you are significant to me. Significant enough for me to want you to stay in me life."

It was entertaining to watch Harry turn this over in his mind. "I just didn't want this to be . . . " Harry couldn't think of the correct words to express himself.

"A casual hook-up?" Louis inserted with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah . . . "

"You would _never_ be that. You have a selective memory, Harold. If I remember correctly, I've said things on several occasions that should have given you a strong clue that that's not what I'm after. Do you remember me tellin' you you're beautiful?" Louis forced himself to say it. He had to get the point across to Harry somehow.

Harry flushed. "Yeah."

"I also said other things. I told you I didn't take this lightly, that I was willin' to take the risk. That was another indication. I hope we don't ever have to deal with a 'no matter what happens.' But we do have to be pragmatic too, and prepare for any unforeseen events. That's all I was sayin.'"

Harry, at last understanding, and also now convinced of Louis' sincerity, slowly got back in bed, Louis gazing at him before taking his shirt and sweat pants off and getting into bed himself. How could he possibly be so blessed to have this gorgeous creature in bed? He was happy—truly happy that Harry had finally grasped what he'd tried so hard to get across.

The feast laid out before him was a dream come true. He couldn't take his eyes off Harry's body, one bare leg outside of the covers, bent, as if he was a magazine centerfold, and his beautiful eyes. They were endless emerald. And when Harry smiled at him, the world seemed to stop. His own _heart_ seemed to stop. Everything faded into the background. Harry was his universe.

They kissed until they were panting and holding back their orgasms. That was how passionate they were for each other.

"If you try goin' out that door again, I'll pull your hair," Louis teased, making Harry smile shyly. Then Louis tugged at his hair tenderly, with no roughness at all. He smoothed it, but no matter how much he did, Harry's curls snapped right back, the tendrils swirling back into place in his palm. Louis caressed them, ever enchanted by their tenacity.

"Now I'll make a confession," Louis said in a low, wicked sounding voice. "I got on me knees earlier because I wanted to suck you again. _Needed_ it."

Harry gasped, as Louis had known he would. He was clearly much too stunned to say anything.

"Does it bother you?" Louis' voice was low, soothing, and his question melted Harry's heart, despite his embarrassment.

"Of course not! I just . . . I don't know about these things."

Louis could see Harry's discomfort, so he didn't push the issue. Instead, he decided to practice a little raw honesty. Harry obviously needed it to be convinced completely of Louis' devotion.

"If you only knew, Harry, how I've admired you since the beginning. It even got to the point to where I looked forward to dust storms!"

Harry's eyes brightened with interest. Then he became uncertain of what Louis thought his own intentions had been.

"You do know that I was really afraid of them, don't you?" he asked, ready to be thoroughly humiliated with his boss' answer.

Louis laughed. "Of course I do. I knew you were scared after the first one, and that you'd look to me for comfort with future ones. And that gave me license to hold you. A little sneaky, yeah?"

"No," Harry smiled genuinely. "No, you didn't make the dust storms happen, silly! But if I'm to be straight up with you, I lost me fear of them pretty early on. But I wasn't willin' to give up the snugglin,'"

Louis' mouth dropped open. "I had no idea! So we were both bein' rather good actors, and reapin' the benefits!" Louis laughed again. Harry just couldn't get enough of the sound of it.

"I thought about you before I went to bed every night," Louis went on, deciding he might as well own up to all of it while he was at it. Harry got the message, and blushed, admitting that he thought about Louis before sleep as well. They were both aware of what they were _really_ saying.

"I watched you every day when we were workin,' as much as I could without being caught," Harry disclosed.

"I did the same. And remember the day you stopped to fix a fence as we were riding in at the end of the day, and I stopped, dismounted, and laid me hand on your shoulder?" Harry nodded his head, clearly recalling that day.

"Well, I just wanted to touch you, if nothin' else. I wanted you to know I was thinkin' of you, even though I'd been such a bastard, and touch was one of the best ways I could think of to convey it."

These confessions of Louis' made Harry come pretty quickly to conclusions. If Louis was just out for sex, why would he seek to just touch Harry, non-sexually, on the shoulder? Harry could find no explanation for that.

And this was Louis' goal—to convince Harry that he thought the world of him, respected him, was truly fond of him, even if sex had never come into play.

Louis took Harry's hand then. "I want to do things the right way. I want to "woo" you, as they used to say. I want us to flirt, as we have been doin.' It feels good. I don't do casual relationships. Not anymore. Not since you came into me life."

Harry let the gasp escape his lips. This was unheard of. Louis Tomlinson, baring his soul like this. Putting up with all Harry's insecurities, and sticking with it until Harry understood.

"But . . . but I have . . . doubts," Louis continued.

"Oh man," lamented Harry. "You tell me sommat that sounded so good, and then follow it up with _that."_ Harry had an excellent point. Louis shouldn't have strung the two thoughts together. He hadn't meant to, but there he went again with thinking ahead of himself.

 _Doubts! Doubts!_ Would he ever be free of them?

"I've outed meself already with Leo. Maybe that was premature," Louis half-muttered, wanting to kick himself for putting Harry through this.

"Lou, you're really, um, makin' me feel like we're on, then we're off."

"Oh God Harry, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way, really I didn't. I'm just tryin' to see it from all angles."

"I feel terrible guilt meself, you know," Harry interjected. "I'm the reason you're havin' all this grief."

"No, you're not. It's the fact that I'm gay. You bein' 'round brought it to the fore and forced me to face it. I'm grateful for that. It's about time I got real with meself."

"But how are you gonna do that? I feel like goin' out into the night again," Harry sounded miserable, and Louis' heart ached for him.

"It's a big thing for me, Haz. It's _huge._ But I'm gettin' there. If you can be patient just a little bit longer . . . a day or so, two weeks at most, whatever. But I want to be sure this is solid enough between us to go ahead with it."

"But you just said yourself, you've already come out!"

"I know."

"You still just aren't sure if you really want me or not," Harry's soft voice pooled over Louis like a sad song.


	48. Chapter 48

Okay, well, if Harry was trying to get to Louis' softer side, it was working. Louis didn't think Harry had any such strategy though. He was just being Harry- honest and sincere. He didn't have a conniving bone in his body.

"That's not true! I _do_ want you. Of course I do, and you have to know it."

Louis was overthinking again. He didn't want to. Lord, he didn't want to, and he skirmished with it as if at war, but the thoughts would give him no peace.

The facts were, he was gay, would be an abomination in his family's eyes if he ever told them, and was doing a giant disservice to his father's memory. He'd no longer be viewed with the admiration he'd enjoyed in the town of Pecos, and his late father would be so ashamed if he were here today, to see this. Louis also knew he would probably be referred to as a faggot behind his back.

Yet, even with all this, he'd rather suffer the repercussions if he could have Harry. He'd better make his mind up solidly, and quickly, or he could be in danger of losing Harry. He could feel it—the warning vibrations. Harry knew of his ambivalence, and he was only too aware that Harry could get just about anyone he wanted, male or female, minus the ambivalence. The beautiful Cheshire lad was not only heart-stopping pretty, but so unique in so many ways, and not easy to resist.

This was a big decision. The biggest one Louis had ever made in his life, but he'd never have another chance of finding anyone like Harry. Even if he did, when all was said and done, he wouldn't be happy, because he wanted _Harry,_ not someone else.

"I want your honest opinion. Am I being overly sensitive, overly analytical?" Louis suddenly demanded of Harry, practically wringing his hands with untold frustration.

Harry sighed, feeling he was caught between being frankly honest and sparing Louis' feelings. Which did Louis want? The bald truth, or some watered down version? He thought it over carefully and chose his words methodically, as was his custom, and often Louis' grievance.

"Overly sensitive, I don't think so. I like you sensitive—it makes you so . . . passionate. Overly analytical, absolutely. I think you're trippin.' But I'm not . . . in your head, so I don't have a right to criticize you."

"But don't you see? I _want_ you to criticize me, Harold! That's why I asked for your thoughts."

Harry ran his hand through his hair, as he often did when perplexed or thwarted as far as retrieving the appropriate words.

"I understand Lou, I really do. I understand why you're feelin'. . . limited . . . as far as your options go. But you have to, um . . . decide what it is you really want."

It was so overwhelmingly difficult not to try to talk Louis into committing to him. To try to entice and tempt him. But no, that wouldn't make Harry happy in the long run. He wanted Louis to come to the conclusion on his own that they should be together.

"And that's what it all keeps comin' back to," Louis murmured. "I have to stand firm in me beliefs. I'll never be properly happy if I don't."

Harry nodded, his inner thoughts clashing. It was still taking all he had not to try to sway Louis in his direction. Louis had to really want it, or the two of them wouldn't last long.

He saw the conflict on Louis' face, and he could swear he felt his heart cracking.

"Well, I wouldn't want you to ever go against your beliefs to be with me. It wouldn't be right," he said softly, trying to act as if it he wasn't hurting and dying inside.

"No, that's just what I mean, Harry! Me belief is that I should be with you. It goes against all I've been taught, but it's stayin' completely static. Me feelings toward you don't change. Even if I try to make them change."

Louis wrapped his ankles around Harry's. Harry tried to swallow down the bubble of joy that had formed in his chest. Louis' feelings toward him mirrored his own. He didn't want to expose his happiness or his relief for fear it would be viewed as a tactic or attempt to lure Louis. If Louis decided they should be together, then he wanted Louis to do it on his own, without any chance of anything he did being interpreted as trying to be persuasive. It was supremely important to him.

"We need to wait . .." Harry said cautiously. "until you know for sure what it is you want. You've been whippin' your poor mind all over the place. Wantin' me, but wantin' to be like your father. Guilt trippin' yourself."

Louis turned a sad face to him. "I'm all fucked up, Haz. I know that. But I also know what feels right, and that's bein' with you. Goin' on livin' a lie doesn't."

"So you've made up your mind for sure?" Harry was afraid of sounding hopeful, of _being_ hopeful.

Louis stared into Harry's eyes and said with emphasis, "Yes. You're what I want. And whatever obstacles I have to face for us to be together, I'll be a warrior."

"I never had a doubt that you're a warrior . . . And a slayer of dragons," added Harry with a grin.

Louis held Harry's hand against his own cheek, sliding Harry's palm to his mouth to kiss it. "But what about you?" he asked. "Is this what you really want?"

Harry smiled. He was still in shock. Louis had never kissed his hand before. His beard stubble sent tingles through his palm, right up his arm and into his heart. Now that Louis had more or less let him know that they were a "couple," he could flirt and not feel guilty about it. The deed was done. So he broke out the dimples and put on a display.

"I've known it for . . . I don't know how long, really. But it's been ever since I realized that you're really a different person with me than you are with others. Whether in town, or with the other hands at home. If I have the liberty of sayin' that?" He asked coyly.

Louis didn't hesitate. "Okay, you got me there, wanker. You bring out sommat in me that no one else has even gotten close to. I mean, look at us. Here we are, away from the telly, the internet, even our phones or a radio. And I don't miss any of it. I'm pretty damn happy because you're with me."

"I haven't missed any of those things even once since we've been here," admitted Harry as well.

There they went, getting lost in each other again. Staring, long and hard, and Louis didn't feel uncomfortable in the least. Green met blue from only a foot away, and Louis swore he saw dreams spiraling around Harry. What did Harry want? That white picket fence? Two point five kids and a dog? Louis had to admit that it sounded pretty good to him.

Harry could have been floating on a cloud, he was that content, all warm and fuzzy inside. He didn't trust his voice to be steady, so he didn't speak. Their silence wasn't forced. It was easy—the way silence often is among old friends who are comfortable enough with each other to just enjoy the company without needing words.

Then, in a whisper soft voice, Harry appealed to Louis. "I feel . . . I feel a lot more at ease now. I know you won't poke fun, or laugh at me when I say . . . " he almost didn't finish his thought.

"When you say?" Louis gently prodded.

"That I think I'll be ready soon . . .to make you feel as good as you make me feel."

Why was Harry so concerned with sex? Louis knew it would all come in time, and he wondered why it seemed to trouble Harry so.

"Didn't we agree to wing it?" he arched his eyebrows to let Harry know that while this was serious, he wanted it to be light-hearted as well. He'd even waggle his eyebrows if he had to, even though that was bound to make Harry blush. God, the lad was adorable.

"Yeah, we did. I just want you to know how much I . . . want you," the bashful words were now even more of a whisper then they had been before.

"Harry, the way you kiss me, the way you get rock hard for me . . . I already know that without a doubt."

Harry's relief was palpable. Louis seemed to understand that he needed time, and his patience really stunned Harry, because who would expect a very horny guy to be this patient? Another clue that Louis was sincere in his quest for a relationship.

Harry swept his brain for something accurate and complimentary to say to Louis. He wished he could voice it so Louis would know just how he felt.

"I love how you, um . . . kiss me like you _need_ it."

This was indeed quite a compliment, and so accurate!

"That's because I _do_ need it. Wanting and needing . . . you made a comment about that before, as I recall."

Harry was extra pleased that Louis had remembered that.

"Something like," Louis wrinkled his forehead and tilted his head slightly, making an effort to remember. "Wanting is something you can live without, but needing is something you can't live without?"

Harry smiled and nodded. "Yeah, I can't remember the exact words verbatim either, but what you said is close."

So Louis was paying close attention to what Harry had to say, and had said in the past. That was also a very positive sign that Louis wasn't just wanting sexual release. The way he cuddled too—there were more than a handful of things Louis did that a convenient roll in the hay wouldn't include.

 _He'd found his cowboy, he really had!_

All of the dreams he'd harbored when leaving California had come to fruition. Horses, wide open spaces, a ranch, and the love of his life too, who just happened to be a rancher and a cowboy. One with all the traits Harry could ever ask for. A hard worker, a great friend, all the other wonderful things Louis was, and the man seemed to cherish him too. Just a sweet kiss on the palm had opened doors. Doors to affection. Affection that Harry hadn't been convinced Louis could, or wanted, to deliver. Harry would have had a difficult, if not impossible, life without affection. But Louis was proving more every day that he possessed all the qualities Harry had ever fantasized about finding in a partner.

He couldn't wait to tell Audrey and Tish, and eventually, his mother. The future looked so bright, but, on the dark side, he knew it would be a lot of work. Getting the other ranch hands to accept his relationship with Louis, the town of Pecos to accept it, and Louis' family also. It would all come together some day though; he was convinced of that. Because that was Harry's nature. To look at the positive aspects of everything. Louis might be a little more of a half-empty glass kind of guy, but Harry was hoping to help him break free of that.

Harry had an overpowering urge to touch Louis, feel him, taste him. He wanted to explore Louis' body—every inch of it. But his bashful nature held him back and his lack of experience reinforced it. He didn't think it was normal to expect Louis to make the first move every time, and he wished he could drive himself past that—show some real courage.

You're me oxygen," Harry said in a low voice that hinted of sensuality. His words weren't suggestive, but his tone was. Harry had never put on a sexy act on the ranch. That was a big part of his appeal. It came naturally to him—he didn't seem aware of it when, in Louis' eyes, he did something sexy. It turned Louis on so much that he sometimes got sore from being hard for hours while in the saddle. But now . . . the way Harry's low voice rolled over him like temptation dipped in nectar aroused Louis to new heights. Harry could be innocent, and Harry, apparently, was also trying on the notion of being evocative. Louis had no complaints.

"I like it when you're flirty," Louis admitted, coaxing Harry closer with his fingers gripping Harry's side, even though they were already less than a foot away Harry responded in a nanosecond, snuggling up so that their bodies touched everywhere.

"You'll have to teach me about that . . . I haven't had much practice."

Louis smiled. "You're doin' a pretty good job all by yourself."

Harry's hand, which rested on Louis' back, skated slowly and smoothly up to the nape of his neck. Feeling Louis' breath quickening, Harry felt a surge of masculine power. _He_ was causing this reaction in Louis. It excited him, and then excited him further when Louis let out a sigh that sounded quivery and unsteady; out of sync with his normal breathing pattern.

He buried his nose in Louis' neck, inhaling his comforting scent. He lowered his hand from Louis' neck to his shoulders, and down to his chest, playing with the hairs there that felt a lot softer than they looked. They weren't coarse, as Harry would have expected, but felt almost silky under his fingertips. His index finger brushed a nipple, and Louis' chest rose on a gasp.

Harry, most of his fears diminished now about Louis' state of mind, felt assuaged, and this buoyed and restored his confidence, giving his bravery a boost. The setting was ideal, the light of the lantern illuminating their faces just enough for them to see each other's expressions. As Harry drew back from Louis' neck, the look on the rancher's face was studied, solemn.

Louis had some serious goose bumps from Harry's mouth at his neck—they'd been searching, kissing, the haunting almost-promise of a moist sucking. What a tease. Whoa, he was getting ahead of himself, wanting more, yet sensing Harry still needed to loosen up.

"Moonshine?" asked Louis, a grin teasing the corners of his lips.

"What? No . . . surely you jest?" Harry let his own grin escape.

"Just kidding. But there's some wine in the cupboard I think you'd like. It might help you loosen you up . . . just a little, yeah? You're tense, even though you're not as uptight as you were before we clarified things."

"I'd love some."

"Hang on, I'll get it." Louis returned with two paper cups and a bottle of chardonnay.

"Oaked," he explained. "It's voluptuous, fermented in oak barrels. You can taste vanilla, coconut, toffee in it."

"So you're a wine connoisseur?" asked Harry.

"Not really. But I have a few favorites, and oaked Chardonnay is at the top of the list. That's why I keep some in this cabin."

Harry took a sip from the cup Louis filled for him. It was rich and full-bodied. He thought he could also detect the taste of caramel in addition to the other flavors Louis had mentioned.

"It's delicious," he purred as he propped his pillow on the headboard and snuggled down a bit, sipping slowly and rolling it around on his tongue the way he'd heard you should do to fully appreciate a wine. Velvety and buttery, it tantalized his palate, and the warmth spread over him slowly as he sipped.

The cups were small, and Louis was careful that neither one of them overindulged.

Louis didn't want Harry drunk. He just wanted him more relaxed, and in summary, more receptive. He sensed Harry would be more open and less embarrassed with just a little alcoholic assistance. Just the right amount would give Harry a mild euphoria and hopefully, no hangover.

A couple of cupsful later, Harry became extremely affectionate, and that was the first sign that he was relaxing and feeling at ease. Harry's true inner nature was freed with a little alcohol. Louis gently removed the cups, having had two himself, and settled down beside Harry. Harry cuddled up in an instant.

"Want a fire?" asked Louis. "It's chilly."

"No, this is fine. I'm very happy."

The lantern's soft glow made their skin tone appear golden, and a warm ambiance spread over the room. It was the epitome of romantic as far as Harry was concerned, and he was plastered up against Louis as they shared their warmth under the blankets. His insides felt like heated honey and he was so very eager to dole out the loving. Oodles of it.

Louis allowed Harry free access to his body, curious as to what Harry would do. Harry was currently running his hands up and down Louis' arm as they lay on their sides. His hand slipped down Louis's side to his hip, then up his waist and onto his chest. Louis didn't move, he just let himself feel, and it was glorious. Letting Harry discover and explore his body at his own pace pacified Louis and aroused him as well. It was an enchanting combination.

Everything was crystal clear, and Harry's thinking wasn't impaired at all, yet he felt a slow, easy motion from within, as if he was floating. But it was very mild. Mostly, what he felt was a desire to be as close to Louis as possible, as well as being so sexually excited that it exceeded anything he could have ever dreamed up. He felt high, yet it wasn't caused by the liquor. At least most of it wasn't. It was that same feeling a teenager gets the first time he kisses someone in a romantic way. That roller coaster feeling in the pit of the stomach, the warmth that spread to his limbs and coated him in layers, pulling him deeper and deeper into the cocoon of desire. He'd never experienced this as a teenager himself, when he had been trying to capture what he thought he should be feeling with girls. He hadn't understood what other boys had spoken of when they talked about kissing girls, because he couldn't seem to summon the same feeling. It was always dull, uninteresting, no matter how he tried. Now, only now, could he appreciate what it was _supposed_ to feel like. He'd finally found that feeling, and it was with another man . . . with Louis.

His yearning to touch Louis all over was overwhelming, and he found his shyness was dissolving. As Louis kissed him, Harry welcomed the older man's tongue, and for maybe the first time, relaxed into it completely. It was so much better this way than having tension, however small, under the surface. He could enjoy it now, and just let things flow, not trying to force a release of tension. As he'd advised Louis not that long ago, he lived in the moment.

Harry's hands were constantly moving, and Louis tried not to hold his breath. The suspense was killing him. Literally. He felt each breath might be his last. Their tongues were moving against each other, the kissing even deeper than the last time they'd made love. Louis sucked at Harry's tongue, trying to urge Harry to do the same. Harry was so yielding when he touched him. So soft, making little noises in his throat to show his pleasure.

Now Harry's fingertips were brushing over his chest, and down . . . when Louis felt those fingers brush against his stomach and slowly down to right above his pubic hair, he drew in a sharp breath, naturally flattening his already flat stomach even more. Mentally, he pulled Harry closer, coaxed him.

 _Come on, Harry. You can do it._

Harry tickled Louis' soft, downy hair "down there" and listened with satisfaction to Louis' respiration, which was very fast and shallow. The back of his hand accidentally brushed against Louis' erect member, startling Harry and causing an exclamation to come from Louis.

"Ah!"

Harry responded instantly, closing his hand loosely around Louis' cock.

"Harry . . ." Louis choked out, his voice husky and breaking up. Harry's grip was so loose, and it was all Louis could manage to grit his teeth and fight the urge to thrust into his hand. Harry had to be in the driver's seat tonight. For one thing, Louis didn't want to scare him. For another, he wanted to see what Harry would do when allowed to be himself without interference. So for the moment, he didn't move.

Harry's body shook, and it made him feel inadequate. He couldn't control it. The tremor was taking over. He knew what felt good to _himself,_ but would Louis' preferences be different? Louis seemed to be made of granite right now. He was stock still, either shocked, or . . . what else could it be? Harry wanted some kind of feedback, some kind of response. He was on very shaky ground as it was, and Louis wasn't helping by being motionless. So Harry tightened his grip a little bit, marveling at the feel of another man's cock in his hand. It was softer than he had expected, yet the silken texture of the surface called attention to the rigidity underneath the skin.

As soon as his hand clenched a little more firmly, Louis' hips began to move, his cock pushing into Harry's hand. Harry smiled slightly. Okay, so, it looked like Louis had been restraining himself. He sure wasn't now. The pumping action of his pelvis made Harry's trepidation roll right back into intense desire. He tickled Louis' erection with the fingers of his other hand while he stroked him.

"Harry," Louis ground out again, and this time his voice had an edge. A desperate edge. Harry felt it flex under his fingers. Flex and jerk. It grew even harder, if that was possible. Louis was trying not to come. Harry knew enough about his own body to know that much.

The covers had been pushed down somehow—maybe Or was Louis a bit of an exhibitionist? Harry could see his own fist working in a somewhat jerky rhythm on Louis' erection, the pre-come glistening on the tip. Once again, the golden glow of the lantern highlighted the essence of his attention. And this time it was Louis' cock. It looked unrealistically spectacular.

"I'm close . . . " Louis mumbled, sounding a little incoherent, his head back, his mouth slightly open, chest heaving.

Well, Harry wasn't done with him. He wanted Louis to feel the same ecstasy he, himself, had felt. Before he could talk himself out of it, he lowered his head, scooting downward on the bed, and Louis' eyes followed him.

Harry was so turned on that he didn't hesitate once he was at his destination. He stopped stroking with his hand so Louis wouldn't come, and opened his mouth to suck up the head of Louis' cock.


	49. Chapter 49

Harry was astonished by the wave of passion and desire that practically swept him away. It also gave him the answer as to why girls had never excited him. He'd figured out he was gay, of course, but, for the first time, he really understood it all. His mind and body had been waiting for the right guy, and no girl in the world could fill that void. It was so simple, so obvious—Louis did it for him. Surge after surge of intense enjoyment engulfed him, and he basked in the pure delight that was before him. Louis.

He licked, he sucked, he did what Louis had done to him. And he wasn't shy about it. He enjoyed it so much that he found himself moaning.

Louis smiled, although it was difficult through all of the intense arousal. His boy was a noisy lover. He liked that. Then he gasped and arched his back, because Harry was sucking hard and steady while holding the root of his cock in one hand. Louis became a writhing mess in seconds. He couldn't believe it when he suddenly felt Harry's throat muscles working the head of his cock. Harry had taken all of him into his mouth and throat. How in the world was that possible? He'd find out later, but as for right now, he was losing himself in the incredible feeling. The tingling and buzzing was ripping right through him. Passion seized him with an astounding grip.

Harry jerked several times and moaned louder, around his cock. Louis wasn't sure, but he had a suspicion Harry had just come. The thought excited him to the point of no return and it triggered his own orgasm. He tried to signal to Harry, or tell him, but the feeling was so all-encompassing that his power of speech was gone, and he wasn't capable of doing anything but drown in passion.

He came hard—very, very hard. He spurted down Harry's throat numerous times. He cried out, he fisted the sheets, he begged in an unintelligible voice, he gasped for breath. And through it all, Harry's name was on his tongue. The ripples of pure ecstasy had rocked him like never before. And Harry stayed right there for the entire thing, swallowing him down, sucking for more even after Louis was spent, as if he needed it as much as he needed life.

The thrashing ebbed, the mutual breathing gradually became more steady and even, and Harry kissed his cock through the aftershocks, licked it clean, massaged it gently with his mouth until Louis had to pull away because of the mounting sensitivity.

 _Louis had said his name._ In the throes of his orgasm, Louis had called out his name.

Harry crawled up to him, surprising Louis when he kissed him without Louis kissing him first, and unknowingly, shared Louis' own seed with him. The taste lingered, and Louis was amazed to find that it aroused him. Things that he had never even thought about with anyone else, excited him because Harry was involved. Harry was opening up a new world of erotism for him.

"Did you come?" asked Louis after a few quiet moments.

"Yeah. I couldn't help meself," confessed Harry his rosy red bashfulness showing through.

"Thought so. That's the hottest thing I think I've ever heard," said Louis. So Harry had come just from sucking him. Seemed they were quite a match in the bedroom.

"I tasted meself when you kissed me," Louis confided. "That was also hot as hell. I knew we'd be good together," I just knew it."

Harry's shyness about this whole subject was improving. At least he would look Louis in the eyes now, although not for long. He lowered his head and looked up at him from underneath his eyelashes, and this prompted Louis to kiss the top of his head.

"Me Hazza," he said affectionately.

"Me Boo Bear," Harry shot back, and there wasn't a thing Louis could do about it. Who could resist Harry when he called him Boo Bear?

"Ready again?" asked Louis only a few minutes later. Harry stared at him.

"You mean, you want to . . . again?"

'Yeah, come sit on me chest."

Louis helped a painfully shy Harry into position, noting that Harry was hard again. The boy was not only a noisy lover, but one with a healthy appetite to match his own. Louis was liking this more and more.

As Harry straddled Louis' chest, Louis lowered Harry's erection to his mouth with a finger, sucking strongly at the head. Harry squirmed and got noisy again. Louis was glad Harry seemed to like most of the concentration on the head, as he couldn't imagine taking Harry down his throat as Harry had done to him. Harry was longer as well as thicker.

Louis sucked Harry like a pacifier. Harry rocked his hips forward minutely, tentatively. The lad acted as if he was afraid of hurting Louis, and Louis decided to put an end to it now. His hands on Harry's bum coaxed Harry to roll his hips. Pre-come trickled onto Louis' tongue, and he savored it, his tongue licking Harry's head as he sucked. He licked into the slit, causing Harry to buck without meaning to, but not able to stop himself.

"Its fine, baby," Louis said, letting Harry's cock slip from his lips just long enough to say it. He fastened his hands on Harry's bum again, firmly pulling him to his lips once again. Harry was so weak that he was just about slumped over. The stimulation was making him a very willing victim.

Louis kept sucking, now reaching around to fondle Harry's balls, and Harry's vocalizations increased. Louis licked up and down Harry's length on the underside as Harry's cock twitched and jumped. He loved watching it jerk. When Louis took Harry back into his mouth, he felt the tension knife through Harry's body, and knew he was on the edge.

Faster and faster Louis bobbed his head halfway down Harry's cock, stopping to suck at the head vigorously and often, swirling his tongue as well. When Harry came only seconds later on a great groan, Louis milked him eagerly, this time swallowing it all, as Harry had done to him. And he discovered how wickedly naughty it felt as Harry's cock sank deep into his mouth, Harry having lost some of his control in his passion. Harry losing control was the biggest turn-on Louis could think of. Louis relished the experience, even as he gagged a little bit.

"Are you alright?" Harry's voice sounded on the frantic side.

"I'm fine, Haz. As fine as I've ever been, yeah?"

After a few minutes of continued mild stimulation post-climax, Harry whimpered slightly. Louis pulled his mouth off, and they settled next to each other.

Silence prevailed. Harry became a vine again and wrapped himself around Louis. Louis wasn't about to complain. "Wow," Harry said into the darkness, still breathing rather roughly.

"Yeah, I reckon that's the best way to put it. This whole thing."

"True, that."

Louis hadn't shown emotions like this in a very long time. Anger or broodiness had covered up all other emotions. He hadn't allowed himself the luxury of tender feelings. Fragile feelings like this.

"We're good together, Haz. Both in and out of bed. We're a team."

Harry couldn't have stopped the smile spreading across his face if he'd wanted to. And he didn't want to.

"So you don't regret . . . this?" asked Harry in a hushed tone, the fear of rejection affecting the timbre of his voice.

"No," came the immediate answer. "I told you I want you, and I meant it."

Harry was still a little cautious. Well, maybe more than a little. Not that long ago, Louis had still been questioning the two of them. Then he'd gone and done a 180. What if he were to change his mind again? Where would that leave Harry? Broken, that's where.

 _Protect your heart,_ a little voice in the back of his head instructed. This wasn't as if it was a one night stand for him. It was Louis—the only man Harry had ever wanted.

They talked about plans to capture the wild mustang. Louis steered them to that subject because he sensed Harry was overwhelmed. They'd talk about the two of them more later on. Right now, Louis knew that Harry needed to calm down and settle himself.

They would begin their preparations day after tomorrow, as their food supply and clean laundry would be arriving tomorrow. They both wondered who would be bringing it. They tried not to dwell on it, and each kept their reservations to themselves. Obviously, it would be best if Johnny came, but it depended on who it was most convenient for.

They discussed mustangs until late into the night, then fell asleep tangled up in each other's arms.

Niall arrived about eleven. Louis was glad to see him. Niall would have been Louis' second choice, because he was innocuous and always pleasant. Never judgmental, and he never had a hidden agenda; his whole purpose in life seemed to be simply wanting everyone to be happy.

Naturally inquisitive, Niall's eyes roved over Louis and Harry, but particularly Harry. He didn't even realize he was doing it, mused Harry. Louis and Harry both wondered what might be going on in the blonde's head. Niall tended to get in a zone and become somewhat oblivious to his surroundings—except what he was focused on.

They had both ridden out to meet him at the truck, and Niall acted as if he was in no hurry to get back to the ranch. Things were slow this time of year anyway. Niall took in a panoramic view of the mountains and valley, swiveling his head this way and that.

Ï love this place," he said wistfully. Louis looked sideways at Harry and they practiced their silent communication. Harry knew Louis was asking him with his expression if he was disturbed by having Niall here. Harry smiled to let Louis know he was cool with it.

So Louis asked Niall to join them for lunch. With Niall on the back of Louis' horse, they went back to the cabin.

There was no harm in him visiting a while. Niall already knew there was only one bed, so there was nothing to hide, and Niall would never infringe on them anyway.

When they arrived and were sitting on a blanket, eating sandwiches and fruit Niall had brought, he asked Louis about the mustangs.

"Have ya tried to catch one yet?"

"Yeah, in fact we did. A couple of days ago. Didn't go like I'd hoped," was Louis' answer. "I missed when the beast threw his head."

"Aw, tough luck. What did he look like?"

Louis glanced at Harry, wondering if Harry wanted to keep the pinto a secret for now. It occurred to Louis that Harry might want to surprise the others when they returned to the ranch with the magnificent animal. So Louis played it safe.

"I wasn't goin' for a particular one. I just aimed at the nearest horse."

"Well, I know you'll catch one of those mofos," laughed Niall. It was his favorite expression.

Harry watched the interchange quietly, not really saying much. He did note that Louis was vague about which horse he wanted to catch. He appreciated that Louis was offering him the choice as to whether to tell Niall about his horse or not. Harry chose not to tell. He was fantasizing about them arriving at the ranch with the horse trailer Johnny would bring, and watching the looks on all the hands' faces when his new horse was unloaded. A rather dramatic moment it would be. Louis was leaving the decision up to him, which made him feel honored and respected. They were a team, after all.

Niall was always a true joy. He kept the conversation light, and he did a lot of laughing. A jolly Irishman, as Louis called him. Niall could lift your spirits unlike any other, and if you were already feeling positive about your lot in life, Niall had the knack of making you feel even better.

A couple of hours later, Louis gave Niall a ride back to the truck.

"You guys have loads of fun, and I'll come help you build a fence, if you need help," he said as he jumped down from Louis' horse.

Ï just may take you up on that," Louis said thoughtfully. They'd told Niall of their plans to capture a horse by building a fence, and now Louis realized that they'd need all the help and ideas they could get if they were to build something substantial enough to hold a wild horse and then be successful in driving that horse inside the pen.

"Cool! I'll bring your food again in two days, and if you decide you want me to stay to help with the fence, I'd be happy to," Niall offered. I'll only stay for the day," he added quickly. Louis wondered if the Irishman might be onto them, but he gave no other indication of it.

"Oh, I forgot to mention it earlier, but I noticed Leo acted a little upset when he came back from bringing you supplies last time," said Niall.

Uh-oh.

Louis waited, wondering if Niall was going to tell him that Leo had told him of what had transpired.

"Upset?"

"Yeah. He said he asked if he could stay a few days with you guys, and that you said there wasn't enough room."

Ï think maybe he's a little jealous that Harry is staying here instead of him," offered Louis, not sure what else to say. "I mean, who _wouldn't_ want to stay here?" Louis gestured at the surroundings.

"Yeah, that's probably it."

Louis wondered briefly if he shouldn't explain the circumstances to Niall, because eventually he would know anyway, but decided against it, as it would only be fair to speak to Harry about it first.

Once Niall was gone, Louis couldn't wait to get back to Harry. He'd never felt or acted this way with anyone. He felt a little foolish. For God's sake, they'd only been apart for the time it took to give Niall a ride, yet Louis felt as if they'd been separated for an eternity.

When he rode up Harry gave him a full, radiant smile, dimples and all, and Louis knew that Harry felt the same way. This really was out of control, thought Louis as he chuckled quietly to himself. Yet he was content. He was happy. They were hooked on each other. Not only that, but he was pretty sure he was falling in love with Harry, if he wasn't already there.

But he wasn't ready to articulate that to Harry yet. He'd wait and see what happened in the coming days.

"I told Niall he could help us build that fence to capture the mustangs. Is that okay with you? If not, I can tell him we don't need his help . . ."

"No, no! That's fine," Harry was his usual easy going self.

"He'll only be here for the day. He won't be stayin' over," Louis peered slyly at Harry, raising his eyebrows slightly. Not even waggling them—just raising them a little bit. But it was enough to start Harry blushing again.

"You're too damn cute," professed Louis as he wrapped himself around Harry to hug him. "And I don't normally use that word. But there's really no other way to describe your demeanor at times."

Harry decided he should probably feel flattered. He wasn't insecure about his masculinity, really. Specifically not when he was with Louis. Louis didn't poke fun at him. He was totally accepting of Harry just the way he was. Louis shored up his confidence and made him feel wanted.

"If you want, I can show you the place where I was thinkin' of us buildin' the fence," offered Louis. "I want your opinion on it."

"Great!" Harry was glad to get the focus off himself, and was also honored that Louis would think his opinion mattered enough to ask for it.

They rode to an area where a heavy growth of bushes took up about 100 yards, against a rock face that formed a natural barrier on one side. Louis explained they could build the fence along the inside of the bushes, which were about seven feet high. Most horses wouldn't normally try to jump a six foot fence, so if they built it six feet high, it would be concealed by the bushes. The horses wouldn't know it was there at all. Not until they were galloping full speed ahead.

Louis explained they would stop building well before the horses came to the creek to drink, so the animals wouldn't hear or see them, and become wary of that area. The area in question was several hundred feet from the creek, and so they would have to find some way to take the horses by surprise, and drive them toward the area, hoping to get lucky enough so the horses would run behind the bushes to try to get the men off their trail.

"We stay right on their asses, they'll panic and, if everything goes just right, they'll dart right into the bushes, thinking they'll have cover as they escape, and they'll run right into the pen we'll build. Of course, that's a simplified version. We'll have to have a plan for every possible scenario."

"Where will we get the lumber?" asked Harry.

"Did you see all the wood in back of the cabin?"

"Yeah. Brilliant. Do you think it'll hold 'em?" asked Harry.

"All we can do is try. If they bust out of it, we'll try sommat else. And we'll still have plenty of wood for firewood."

Harry had wondered why Louis had such a huge pile of wood. Now it made sense, since Louis seemed to think of everything, and was always prepared.

Harry had to credit Louis with a determination that just wouldn't quit. The man didn't give up, whether it was a difficult foal or calf delivery, or catching a herd of completely wild horses with just the two of them. Those horses would be terrified of them, as they'd had no contact with people, and thought of them as predators. Was his boss daft, or did he just love a challenge? Maybe a little of both, mused Harry. He remembered how when he'd first visited the ranch, and Johnny had commented on Louis' compulsiveness. He'd seen it with his own eyes too, recalling that day Louis had come up against the mean bull.

"How big will the enclosure be? " asked Harry.

"I wanted your input on that too. I was thinkin' maybe half the length of the bushes?"

"That's smart," agreed Harry. "If they see the fence straight away when they start to enter the bushes, they might try to double back on us. If we make it only half the length, by the time they see it, they'll be runnin' so fast that it'll be too late. Plus, it'll be too narrow for a bunch of horses to turn around at once."

"This is why I needed your input. And that brings me to another thing, Haz. There's a chance they'll try to turn back anyway. At least some of them. That would pose a danger to us."

Harry shrugged. "I was forced to come here by Johnny; not that I'm complainin,' because I wanna be here more than anywhere else, but now that I'm here, I want to be a part of whatever you do here. And catchin' a wild horse is what you always come here for, except for peace and quiet, of course. So I'm all in."

Louis smiled one of his generous, sanguine smiles, and Harry's heart lightened even though it was already nearly light enough to fly away, all by itself.

 _They were a team!_

So, in two days, Niall would return and they could get started. They were that much closer to catching the magnificent gray and white pinto.

After a swim and bath, where they flirted and laughed, simply because they loved life, they returned to the cabin.

"I like that you're so different here than at the ranch," Harry broached the subject again because he still couldn't believe the positive change in Louis.

"I know, I'm not as much of a complete dick," Louis smirked.

"That's not what I meant. Just that you're almost humble, not as cheeky."

"Harry, you could humble anyone. "It was hard to resist you at the ranch, but out here, it's impossible."


	50. Chapter 50

On the blanket spread out on the ground, Harry suddenly pushed Louis down onto his back. No preamble, just assertive affection. Holy shit; now _that_ had Louis' attention in a hurry. He hid away his shock and relaxed, accepting Harry's lips on his with carefully bridled enthusiasm.

After some very zealous kissing, Harry drew back, and Louis saw that his bright green eyes were twinkling.

"Ummm," rumbled Louis. "This is bloody good. I like this side of you," he concluded, adding a bolster for Harry's confidence. It was true, after all.

"I've not been aggressive like this before," admitted Harry. He was struggling to appear confident.

"Well, feel free to do that whenever you want." Harry could tell Louis was majorly into it and yearning for more. The impassioned look in his eyes told the truth. Enthused and aroused to new heights, and not able to resist, Louis pulled Harry's head down to his lips again. This craving for Harry was the main focus of his existence right now. He wanted things to always be like this. His blood was on fire. He felt scorched when Harry touched him on the bare skin of his chest. Louis had taken his shirt off as soon as Niall had left. It was warm enough, and he had another good reason, although it was sneaky. He wanted Harry to touch him, and he'd seen the look of enchantment on Harry's face when he'd unbuttoned his shirt. He found himself aching for Harry's touch at ever y turn. That kind of need almost frightened him with its intensity.

Louis kept his mind on surrender so he wouldn't try to lead this dance and become overbearing. Harry was in the process of crawling out of his self-induced oblivion, excluding everything else from his world except Louis, and he needed to "practice," as it were, on Louis. So far he was doing a stupendous job of it. He was sucking Louis' tongue, squirming and making cooing noises. Louis was wondering how long he could hold off. The two of them were becoming a little too proficient at pre-ejaculation. As funny as it seemed, it really wasn't, cause Louis hoped they'd eventually learn to enjoy each other more thoroughly before the fireworks busted loose and their climaxes hit them.

"Slow burn, Harry. I want this to last." He was saying it for himself as much as he'd said it for Harry.

"It's just that . . . it's been buildin' up for so long . . ." Harry tried to explain.

"I know. I feel the same way, trust me. We've fancied each other for almost half a year, and now that we finally have each other, it's bloody hard to temper it. It's a fuckin' flood."

Harry nodded his agreement with conviction.

"What do you feel about lovin' outdoors?" asked Louis, his impish grin sneaking in.

Harry wasn't certain of Louis' meaning at first. Maybe Louis meant kissing? They were already doing plenty of that. Did Louis mean more than kissing? It seemed so. The hair on Harry's arms stood up and a rather nice chill breezed through him.

 _Outdoors!_ He was temporarily horrified, but then realized there was no one to discover them. They were completely alone. That was when his horror began to morph into something else. _Desire._ Mad desire. Making love with Louis out in the open sounded so incredibly scandalous, discreditable. So naughty. Yet it excited him in the same breath. Aroused him so that he couldn't think of anything else.

It was also broad daylight. They'd only done things of that nature in the very low light of the fire or the lantern—near darkness. Not with the bright sun beaming down on them, with every little imperfection highlighted and underlined. Harry suddenly felt self-conscious. It must have shown on his face, because Louis spoke up.

"It might be a little too early for sommat like that," he soothed Harry. "No worries,

I was just testin' you, in a way, to see what page you're on. Bein' inside the cabin when things happen is fine with me You excite me no matter what. I keep forgettin,' that you haven't . . . and you have to forgive me for that." Louis had censored the thought.

Harry knew what he was thinking though. That he, Harry, was a virgin. He felt lacking and incomplete. Louis had been with many women—he was so far advanced when compared to Harry that Harry wondered if he'd be enough for Louis. If he'd be able to satisfy him. Louis had probably done all kinds of sensual things that Harry knew very little, if anything, about.

"And while I'm at it, I might as well throw this out there too," Louis continued. "If ever you feel that maybe you want to stop being . . . sexual . . . for whatever reason, just tell me. I'm willin' to wait, with no complaints either. I don't want to alienate you, and I sure don't want to lose you."

Harry was honestly blown away. Louis was willing to sacrifice his sexuality for him! And Louis was obviously a very sexual person. They both were, and Harry wondered if Louis knew just how much he turned him on. If that didn't prove how much Louis cared . . .

"What's goin' on in that pretty head of yours?" Louis' voice cut into Harry's thoughts, and he startled. Determined to be as honest as he possibly could, Harry shifted on the blanket, sitting up Indian style so he could face Louis. Louis, a few moments later, instinctively did the same thing, his body mirroring Harry's so he could assure Harry of his full attention.

"Tell me, Hazza."

"I don't know . . . if . . . well, like, I can _handle_ you," he said haltingly.

Louis threw his head back, letting the laughter out unabashedly. His candid nature warmed Harry's heart, although he wondered why Louis was laughing so hard. Was it a good sign? He didn't think Louis would be mean enough to laugh at him.

Louis clarified it in the next moment. "Hazza, you're _handlin'_ me just fine. In fact, I think we're pretty evenly matched when it comes to . . . that."

"But . . . I don't have the knowledge," Harry argued.

"You don't _need_ the knowledge. We'll get there together Tell me now, do you see any lack of desire in me?"

"No."

"And that should make it clear to you that I want you, I want you badly. Inexperienced or not. I wouldn't lie about that. You turn me on to no end, and I actually find it a bit exciting that you are hesitant at times. I want us to climb this trifling mountain together. It's gonna be bloody special."

Harry didn't quite know what to think of all of this. But it all seemed to be positive. Louis had said he didn't need to be sex savvy, that he desired him, and best of all, Louis didn't want to lose him. Harry just hoped Louis wouldn't grow impatient with him for his lack of know-how.

Harry had not been wayward as a child, but he had been impulsive. On occasion, he'd struggled with thoughtlessness, but not to any great degree. Louis, on the other hand, was high spirited and definitely had been wayward and willful in his younger days, and some of it lingered.

Louis, Harry knew, was tempestuous and stubborn, yet self-sacrificing to level his strong personality out a little. Harry could not help but think of him as invincible as well. Harry was tender, Louis was not. At least not until they'd gotten here, to the Apache mountains. Harry was seeing another side to him now.

Yet Harry still pondered whether they had enough in common for a relationship. Someday their personalities might clash-maybe sooner rather than later. They were so different, yet it seemed to attract them to each other instead of causing them to avoid each other or step around each other and the obstacle of their differences, not caring to try to connect.

The attraction was powerful and undeniable. Being up here in the mountains allowed them to live in somewhat of a dream world, away from all potential negativity regarding their affection and actions. It also left them with the feeling that time was standing still and they were free to love, alone together, and that this would endure, even knowing they had to be sensible about returning to their prior existence on the ranch.

Harry hoped fervently the difficulties between them were finally resolved. That Louis was finally accepting and embracing the way they felt about each other without shame. Harry felt that Louis needed to just live with things the way they were, accept their feelings for each other; but how could he say that without causing Louis to have another potential melt down? He decided he'd handle it in a way that Louis wouldn't be able to argue with.

He leaned forward, pushing Louis over backward and pinning him, flattened, to the blanket. Again. Louis chuckled. Harry delighted him. When the lad allowed himself to be candid, he was absolutely brilliant. Harry could probably convince him of just about anything. Louis knew why Harry was "attacking" him. Harry knew he wouldn't say no, and Louis wouldn't have a chance to think about how outrageous their relationship was. Because he always seemed to—sooner or later. Harry feared Louis' inherent resistance toward being gay. It had been there since his childhood. But now, Harry was sure desire would rule.

Harry's face was effervescent as he smiled down at Louis, who was now underneath him.

"Just so you know . . . I've decided there will be no regrets or excuses on me part," Louis informed him, just so Harry would know without a doubt that he was willing, and would remain that way.

 _Perfect._

"Now that there are no more roadblocks, I will proceed," Harry announced, then he scattered kisses that were quite sloppy all over Louis' cheeks and neck. Louis giggled and tried to fight him off. It was beginning to tickle, but Harry held him down. Admittedly, Louis didn't try really hard to get up, because he was enjoying it too much.

From now on, they could cohere to each other and not pay a price for it. Their days alone were numbered, but Harry was determined that the time remaining would be quality, from this moment on.

The tickling sensation began to fade, and desire nudged its way in. Raging desire. Louis didn't participate or help Harry along because he didn't trust himself not to do some attacking of his own. And he feared he wouldn't be able to stop. Damn it, but the comment about outside sex had been premature. He should have waited on kinky stuff like that because Harry wasn't ready for it yet.

But Harry proved him wrong-again. Nipple nibbling came next, saliva making Louis' chest moist, and his demeanor needier by the moment.

"Haz, let's take this indoors," he choked out, barely able to form a sentence. His desire really was out of control. Harry brought out the beast in him. Harry didn't respond, so Louis decided to let Harry paralyze him with pleasure. Seemed like a nice medium. He remained where he was, not enforcing the order to go inside. Their roles had, strangely, reversed. Harry was now the aggressor, and outside sex didn't seem to concern him at all. The tingles were assaulting Louis, his cock was seeping pre-come, and he wanted his hands on Harry in the worst way.

But he just tangled his fingers up in Harry's hair and went along for the ride. Harry's own fingers were getting bolder and bolder, making Louis' heart go into overdrive. They were now rubbing only the hair on Louis' stomach-that was how slight the pressure was. It was torture, pure and simple. Louis wanted with all he had to grab Harry's hand and force it to his crotch. But this was Harry's show, and it was Harry's turn to call all the shots. He went on tormenting Louis until Louis felt like screaming and throwing a fit. But he didn't. He determined he would endure whatever Harry decided to lay on him. He sure hoped though, that Harry didn't chicken out. He didn't know how he'd live through it if that came about.

Harry was hesitant, and Louis couldn't help but feel compassion for him. The poor guy was feeling around in the dark, in broad daylight because he was blind from lack of knowledge. Louis resolved to help him out as much as he could without taking over. Louis was so good at directing other people's actions, but there was no place for that here and now-he needed to learn to give Harry space and let him create his own seduction.

In the end, Harry didn't disappoint him. In fact, he stunned Louis as strongly as if he'd used a laser. His hand eventually, after way too much teasing and rubbing, ended up, palm down, in Louis' groin. Louis grunted as if he'd been punched in the gut. His arms came up around Harry, his hands pressing the younger man's back lightly, waiting for Harry's next move.

Harry couldn't ignore the thick coil of desire in his middle. It was overbearing; it threatened to spring free as he looked down at Louis and marveled at his virility. He hadn't seen Louis look so open, ever. Louis was not in control, and he was allowing Harry to rule the roost, make the rules. Harry felt filled with power he'd never known before.

His hand began to rub Louis' erection lovingly, barely making contact, as he had with Louis' belly. Ah, he was teasing again. He knew Louis liked a firm touch down there, and he was deliberately just brushing against it so lightly that Louis could hardly feel it.

"Damn it Styles. You're agonizing to even look at, let alone allow you to do that."

"Ägonizing? To look at?" Harry feigned innocence. He knew what Louis was getting at, but he wanted to hear it.

"Yeah. I fancy you, and you aren't givin' me any satisfaction on purpose. You know what you do to me . . ." Louis moaned as Harry's touch grew firmer, more demanding. Louis' hips rose, and there was no way in hell he could stop himself. He saw Harry looking down at his own hand on Louis' cloth covered crotch. Somehow that was as exciting to Louis as the steady pressure. Louis responded by rolling his hips provocatively against Harry's hand.

Ï love your hip thrust," Harry said, managing to mostly control his blush.

Louis decided that maybe Harry wanted language that was a bit more erotic.

"I need your hand on me cock. Strokin' me," he said, watching Harry's expression carefully. It seemed Harry was tolerating it well, as his eyes looked dreamy, and they were now half-lidded. God, the lad looked as if he wanted a serious roll in the hay.

Suddenly, Harry's hand was inside Louis' pants, palming his rock hard cock, then enclosing it with his fingers, pumping it with his fist.

Öh! Harry, be careful. You'll make me come,"" Louis whimpered plaintively.

So Harry's fingers changed direction, away from his cock, taking the air right out of Louis' lungs.

Harry's fingers reminded Louis of a tarantula as they grazed the flesh of his chest and stomach, crawling here and there, hinting at some kind of secret that was waiting to be revealed.

If Louis could have held his breath, he would have. But it wasn't possible to hold it for ten minutes while Harry made circles and figure eights on his flesh. It was the worst kind of torture, but also the best because when Harry actually did touch him there again, it would be all the better for the wait.

"You're a tease, you wanker," Louis said in a low growl that sounded more like a caress than a critical remark. Harry knew him well enough to know Louis showed affection in unique ways and with words that should have been harsh, somehow emerging gentle and soft.

Harry was curious about this dirty talk Louis had mentioned before, but he was content to let Louis express it when he was ready. There had been a hint of it.

 _I need your hand on me cock. Strokin' me._

The time would come. Like Louis said, there was no hurry for anything. And the anticipation of other good things to come made Harry want to sweat and pant. He had no idea what Louis had in store, but he was dying to find out.

Harry's long tarantula fingers crept their way down steadily, always changing course and going back up to Louis' chest, causing Louis to want to protest loudly, but he kept silent. Sometimes you have to endure excessive hardships in order to get to the good stuff, Louis reminded himself.

Louis was mindless by now. Their exchange became weaker, more strained. Louis' voice was nothing but a weak rasp. Harry's mouth and full lips were practically a promise of their own.

When Harry at last placed his mouth where his hand had been earlier, Louis came unraveled.

"Oh God, oh God," he kept repeating. And then, "Suck me, Harry." To say Harry hadn't been expecting that would be a terrific understatement. His mouth became feverish with an almost frantic hunger. The words spurred him on. He began to deep throat Louis, swallowing the head of his cock, his throat fluttering around it, causing Louis' body to writhe and squirm.

"You're beautiful, Harry. Swear to God, your mouth feels so fuckin' good," Louis murmured. Harry's desire shot right off the scale.

Louis' grunts and moans were unfettered and his inhibitions were nonexistent. He was ready to give himself completely to Harry, and forget every bit of his past. The women had meant less than nothing. His uptight father's opinion didn't matter anymore. He belonged, heart and soul, to Harry now.

He would honor his father's memory, but he would also be his own person. This new independence would help him to break free of all restraint. And in the process he would also happily assist Harry in his quest to find himself. He hoped Harry would continue to desire him and their intimacy, but he'd understand, with a heavy heart, if Harry decided he wanted someone else more. He'd let him go. But just the thought of all the possible romantic encounters they could enjoy together gave Louis endless pleasure and hope.

Harry's ministrations were careless, yet precise. And yes, that was possible. With Harry, it seemed as if anything was possible. Right now, Harry had thrown himself into the experience so thoroughly that Louis feared the lad would come again. But really, it didn't matter anyway because Harry seemed to be as highly sexed as himself, and could sprout a new erection immediately after climaxing. Once they got really familiar with each other sexually, Louis was sure they could get each other off several times a day. They were nearly to the point now of being comfortable enough to read each other's body language and initiate sex when the mood hit them.

Harry pulled off Louis for a few seconds to gather his wits and control, as all reason had been caught in the tight web of desire, and he'd nearly had an orgasm just from sucking Louis. He loved how the two of them adored the giving as well as the receiving equally.

Louis looked drugged—his eyes barely open, his cock spasming in anticipation of Harry's mouth settling on it again. Harry relished that. He wanted more and more. When his mouth descended again, Louis lost control and jet after jet shot down Harry's throat before Harry could even get his cock all the way to the back of his tongue.

The gentle sucking throughout his orgasm caused Louis to spurt more times than he ever had before. His whole body convulsed with the pleasure of it.

"Oh fuck, Harry. Bloody hell."

Harry took that as a sign of satisfaction and fulfillment from Louis. The rancher was quenched, but only temporarily, because he had more plans for Harry . . .

.


	51. Chapter 51

A little while later, when they'd regained their power of speech, they discussed their plans for the corral for the mustangs. They would be able to get it done a third of the time faster because Niall would be helping. The excitement of it began to bubble to the surface.

"If sommat goes wrong, Haz, we'll just make another plan. Like we did last time. Just don't get your hopes up too terribly high," warned Louis. "It might take a few tries to get that horse."

"I know," Harry was making a gigantic effort not to become too eager, but he was hoping that this time would be the charm. He didn't breathe a word of it to Louis, however. He hadn't been aware that he had this kind of impatience in him, but Louis was causing him to see a lot he hadn't known about himself before. Louis was tenacious and steady about this whole process of catching the horse. Harry couldn't understand how the rancher practiced the very patience Harry didn't have, when Louis, on the ranch, had so often displayed restlessness and a striking urgency about other things.

He didn't stop to think that maybe it was he, _himself,_ who had made a difference in Louis. For the first time in many years, Louis was actually feeling a surge of happiness, and he had hope that he'd at last found the answer as to why he'd been such a miserable SOB before Harry had appeared in his life. Harry had opened a path to so much introspection. Harry was making him happy, where he hadn't been before, and hadn't even known it.

After their discussion, Louis slowly pushed Harry back onto the blanket in the same manner Harry had done to him earlier. He took extra care to be gentle.

"Now . . . I'm gonna suck you off," he whispered, and a wide-eyed Harry expelled the air he was holding in his lungs with a soft gust, not even rebelling when Louis made it clear he really was going to follow through on his promise. Sure he was embarrassed, but Harry was also aware of a strange kind of serenity, and he surrendered when bit by bit, his guard dissolved as Louis took his sweats off. When Harry was naked, Louis let his eyes wander over him hard and long, his gaze never wavering.

"You are incredible, all soft and waitin' for me," he said reverently as he undressed himself as well and then settled between Harry's legs. Harry suddenly lost all modesty. Louis wasn't finding fault with him; had in fact eaten him up with his eyes, and his fear of Louis seeing any imperfections vanished. He saw the fondness there in Louis' eyes, and it made him feel accepted by his lover, made him want Louis even more.

Louis pushed at Harry's legs, urging him to spread them more. So Harry did, and it felt so deliciously indecent. He felt vulnerable, yet he loved it. Spreading himself for his lover—it not only felt naughty, but _right._

Louis' hot breath ghosted Harry's cock up and down, root to tip for several seconds, followed by his tongue, leaving a slick trail. Harry hadn't lost his inhibitions enough to raise his hips as spontaneously and shamelessly as Louis did. So far, he'd only tended to do that when he was nearing orgasm. Louis, however, slid his hands under Harry's bum and raised his pelvis up to meet his mouth. Now Harry felt really unrestrained, and because Louis was raising him up, he didn't feel responsible for the action. All he could do was enjoy the delicious helplessness. At Louis' mercy. . .

Harry spread his legs more . . . and more. He was fast getting addicted to giving in to Louis. The sensations that ripped through him were beyond description.

"I can't deep throat you like you do to me . . . your dick is way too enormous for that, but you like the head sucked a lot, don't you?" Louis kept his voice to a whisper, and it was all the more erotic like that. Louis' words caused a red stain to spread across Harry's cheeks, but he nodded his approval.

Louis sucked him then, beginning very gently—his lips barely there, and gradually worked up to a frenzy of losing himself. Louis was totally into it, bobbing his head up and down, licking, sucking without censure. Harry made strangled noises, he whined quietly, he gripped blindly at Louis' shoulders. He felt overwhelmed with warm ripples of intense desire that fanned out, stimulated by Louis' mouth. When Harry's orgasm drew near, Louis stopped and made Harry wait. He held his hips down with his hands because Harry had started to roll his hips just the slightest bit.

"Not yet, baby."

Harry whimpered as Louis licked at his head, his balls, and up and down the sides of his cock, teasing him, bringing him so close to the edge, but not allowing him to tip over and into bliss, to the point to where Harry didn't recognize his own voice pleading, whining.

Harry's cock was in Louis' mouth yet Louis hardly applied any pressure at all with his lips. Continuing to tease. Louis held Harry at the base of his cock, tightening his grip when Harry got too close, forcing him to hover right at the edge. The teasing was numbing Harry's brain, making him irrational in his desperate quest for release. He pushed back against Louis' mouth just as Louis was making a little more contact. Louis chuckled, but drew it out, not quite willing yet to allow Harry to come.

"What do you want, baby?" asked Louis in his quiet, sexy-as-hell way.

To come. Lou . . . I need to come," Harry half whined and half panted.

Louis, totally engaged in prolonging Harry's pleasure and culmination, poked and rubbed at Harry's shaft with his tongue, leaving long wet marks in his wake. When he enclosed him with his mouth, he barely scraped his teeth against the head, causing further delicious sensations. He could see Harry trembling and shivering under his touch. How long should he draw this out? Not much longer, and he already knew Harry's climax was going to be superbly powerful from the extensive teasing.

And so he sucked hard, kneading Harry's balls at the same time, moaning, and hoping Harry felt the vibration. He didn't have to fake the moaning, however, because he was easily as sexually excited as Harry was.

Harry shot his load with a hoarse cry and a mighty thrust of his hips into Louis' mouth. He was completely unleashed. Louis gagged a time or two when Harry pushed too deep, but that only aroused Louis more. Louis was amazed at the sheer volume of Harry's seed. He swallowed greedily and relished the taste.

"Sorry . . ." Harry started to say a couple of minutes later, still straining a bit to breathe.

Louis moved up and put two fingers on Harry's lips. "No sorries allowed. I love you lettin' yourself go like that. I loved you fuckin' me mouth. Next time, do it more."

Color tinged Harry's cheeks again, as this was so novel to him, and more important, terribly stimulating. His wildest dreams could not have competed with this.

Louis was thrilled- Harry had given him back his lost desire. The gorgeous, tall man with the dark wavy hair and adorable dimples had completely taken his heart over. He was wrecked.

Harry was petting his face now with feather-light strokes of his fingertips. Louis closed his eyes the way he'd seen Harry do when he'd played with his hair. He understood now why Harry did it. It allowed him to concentrate wholly on the sensations, and squeeze all he could out of them. Yes, Harry was a sensualist, and Louis was quickly learning to be one too.

Harry stared at Louis, who had his eyes closed, marveling at those cheekbones that were so clearly defined, and the look of total contentment on the man's face. Seeing his boss like this was a special treat, as he didn't—at the moment anyhow, have to worry about the man's prickly disposition.

"I loved it. I never knew . . . " Harry couldn't find the words to express how he felt.

"Aw, I'm just that good," Louis' bemused expression was tantalizing and playful.

"Oh, are you?" Harry said with seeming innocence mixed with sarcasm, the sexual tension still heavy in the air.

"I'd say so. You look pretty sated to me."

"I am," admitted Harry.

"And we're not even _close_ to discoverin' each other fully," the tone of Louis' voice was a promise and Harry trembled just a little bit.

Louis was having difficulty, as the ache in his chest was acute. It wasn't a physical ache, but rather an emotional one. A shadow crossed his face, and Harry spied it instantly. His boss had always had a perpetually complacent look on his face, but that air of smugness was gone now. He had dropped his confident, brash exterior, and Harry suspected he was thinking things over again. In a good way, he hoped.

Harry snuggled close. His need for touch was endearing, and Louis, never having been the physical type, was, on the inside, actually crying out for more. Totally unheard of. He was astonished at how much he wanted it.

Getting through the rest of the day was trying. They were both overly eager to begin building the fence against the rock face where the mustangs would be driven into. In fact, they were straining at the bit. One more day to wait.

They held each other close that night, helping each other to drop off to sleep with some low key sex play that resulted in mutual, simultaneous orgasms with each other's hands. It hadn't been planned by either one to end so quickly.

"Well, I guess we were both needy, although I can't understand why. We have access to each other all the time," commented Louis. Harry knew why—they were incredibly and massively aroused by each other, and only a brief touch of hands or mouth was needed most of the time. They were about as compatible as it was possible for two people to be.

The next night, they cuddled with more affection than actual sex play because both were anxious for the following day to be over, the pressure of building the fence as quickly as possible loomed, and each was aware of how eager the other was to return to the cabin to do some private celebrating afterward. Still, the foreplay happened on a regular basis, not concluding with anything more, having to be up early for Niall's arrival. They were wound tight with nerves, wondering if they'd be able to finish the fence as quickly as they wished for.

Both men were awake when the sun rose, their minds having churned all night, even in their dreams. They sat with their customary coffee on the mountaintop, Harry having taught Louis about really enjoying life here as they breathed in the magic of the morning. The crisp air that was becoming chillier in the morning and evening as fall approached had a profound effect on Harry, and he passed it on to Louis, and Louis began to see and feel things through Harry's eyes. Everything was fresh and new.

As Louis had predicted, Niall showed up earlier than he normally would have, also anticipating the day, and the promise of the eventual capture of a mustang.

Louis, having seen the truck first, jumped up, leaving their breakfast paper plates where they were, forgetting them in his restlessness to get started.

"Come on, babe. Let's go!" he said, handing Saber's reins over to Harry. He gave Harry a kiss on the lips before they mounted their horses. Not a peck, and not a long one either, but it was more lingering than Harry would have expected. Niall, after all, was not that far away from them as to give them a guarantee he hadn't seen.

Bewildered by Louis' behavior, Harry guided his horse into step with Louis,' and they found Niall taking hammers, nails and other miscellaneous items from the bed of the truck. Louis smiled, knowing Niall had just assumed they'd decide they wanted his help. He and Niall knew each other well.

"I've got plenty of supplies Nialler. You didn't need to bring anything,'" said Louis.

"Oh, I wasn't sure what you had, and wanted to be prepared," was Niall's answer. His air of suppressed excitement was contagious. But at the same time, he seemed just a bit stiff and nervous, making Harry wonder if he might just have seen that kiss. But no . . . it wasn't very likely.

Louis and Niall rode double, and the three of them made their way to the bottom of the valley and to the area where the fence would be built. Louis and Harry had already made a few trips down with wood and quick drying cement that their horses had dragged the day before, so they had a good jump on the start of the job.

"Hungry Niall?" asked Louis, fully prepared to fetch the blonde something from the cabin.

"Oh, hell no. I had a big breakfast," Niall patted his belly, and Harry again wondered where he put all the food, as he'd seen Niall eat a massive breakfast every morning on the ranch. If Niall ate lightly, you knew for sure something was wrong. And if he had no appetite, he was sure to be dying.

Louis nodded. "What's new? I figured so." They all laughed.

They got started, and it wasn't long before Harry began to get distracted by Louis. The rancher was so breathtakingly handsome it almost hurt to look at him. And Harry couldn't help but admire what his amazing butt looked like in his jeans every time the man bent over, or even walked in front of him. He thought he was being discreet, but did notice Niall looking his way a few times, catching Harry's gaze on Louis. Or was that just his guilty conscience?

Louis saw how hard Harry's nipples were through his shirt, and as happened every time he witnessed it, his jeans got uncomfortably tight in the front. Were they hard for him?

Louis was quirky, and things had to be done just so, or he'd balk and make them do it his way. Harry and Niall were used to this, and didn't rebel or complain. It was just the way Louis was. A perfectionist when it came to ranch work.

Even with Louis insisting on building a virtually flawless fence, they still couldn't keep their eyes off each other. Every chance they got, their gazes raked over each other, and they occasionally grinned slightly too. Secret grins. Both were giddy, and not being as cautious as they should have in front of Niall.

Niall was beyond bewildered. It couldn't possibly be what it looked like, could it? He'd never seen either one of them look at another guy the way they were checking each other out. He'd thought he'd seen something else too, when he'd pulled up in the truck. It had looked like the two had kissed before mounting their horses. But that was impossible, and Niall had concluded that, with the distance and the horses partially obstructing his view, it had just looked that way. Now he wasn't so sure.

The day warmed quickly, and sweat began to appear on their shirts. Louis unfastened a couple of buttons, and Harry's attention was immediately on his chest. When Harry also unbuttoned his own shirt, not to try to get Louis' attention, but because he was hot, Louis' eyes also went straight to his chest. Niall, seeing it all, shook his head slightly to himself, astonishment almost fully realized. Either he was dreaming, or something _had_ to be going on here.

They worked hard, and Louis decided they'd have to make the corral a bit smaller than he and Harry had initially planned on because they wouldn't have enough time to complete it otherwise, and Niall was only here for the day. He didn't expect Niall to drive all the way out here again tomorrow.

The posts weren't as deep as Louis would have liked, but they were sunk into cement, so it didn't seem likely the horses could ram into it hard enough that the fence, or part of it, would come down. Still, he hated to take any chances with wild horses. They'd be panicked, and wild horses have no respect for barricades such as a fence the way domestic horses do. There would be no second chances if that happened because the horses would then avoid that area for a long time to come. The entire corral was made of four by sixes, so Louis was pretty confident the horses wouldn't be able to break through it.

They sat down briefly in the early afternoon to have a quick lunch of sandwiches before tackling the job again. It wouldn't be much more than a few hours before the horses would appear to get their daily drink of water, and Louis wanted to be out of there well before that. So that meant shortly before four o'clock. The hardest part was the gate, and it took quite a while, as they had to install hinges so they could pull it shut behind the horses.

They got done shortly after three-thirty, and then hooked the horses up to the remaining supplies they wouldn't be using, and back up the hill they went. Louis and Niall then took a ride to the truck to get the food and clean clothing Niall had brought.

"That was cutting it close," Louis exclaimed, removing his hat and wiping the sweat off his face with a forearm as he unsaddled his horse. "Sometimes those horses come to drink at four-thirty, and we were barely out of there by four. Hey, Niall. Wanna see the wild horses?"

Niall's blue Irish eyes sparkled. "The mustangs? Would I ever!"

"Well, we'll watch for 'em, and then eat some dinner." Louis knew the sandwiches they'd had earlier probably weren't sufficient for Niall's substantial appetite.

"Then I'll be headin' back to the ranch," said Niall, somehow knowing without a doubt that they'd want him gone after dinner.

"We really do appreciate you comin' out to help us. We definitely needed three men for that job," added Louis. The corral had ended up being about seventy-five feet long, and Louis hoped that was big enough so the horses didn't end up trampling each other when they realized they were trapped. They hadn't discussed it yet, but they'd figure out a way, later on, to free the other horses, and keep only Harry's pinto inside the enclosure.

"I knew about the wood, but I didn't know you had cement here too," commented Niall.

"Well, I never know what I might have to do to catch a horse. Figured I should have all me bases covered," Louis replied.

Niall and Harry chuckled, because when was Louis _not_ prepared for just about anything?

"How are things goin' on the ranch?" Louis asked as he was adjusting the binoculars for the arrival of the mustangs.

"Oh, those mofos," laughed Niall. "There ain't that much to do except feed and clean stalls, as you know this time of year, so there's been some beer drinkin." Niall knew Louis didn't mind the ranch hands drinking when they weren't working.

"We had Chardonnay," Louis professed without even blinking an eye. Harry gazed at him curiously, and Niall watched on, studying their body language. Something _definitely_ was not right. Harry had blushed when Louis mentioned the wine, and Louis looked rather smug.

Just a few minutes later, Louis grabbed Niall's forearm while peering through the binoculars.

"Niall! Look! The mustangs are on their way to the water hole."

Harry couldn't stay silent a moment longer. "Keep your eyes peeled for a grey pinto," he said as Louis handed the binoculars over to Niall. Louis sneaked an amused glance at Harry. So . . . the Cheshire lad couldn't hold his tongue about his horse after all. Harry was extra fidgety, waiting to hear Niall's assessment of the animal.

A moment later, "Holy shit! I see him! The grey pinto! Goddamn, he's one impressive stallion!" Niall refused to let go of the binoculars for a few minutes, and Harry and Louis didn't press him to. His eyes were glued to the lenses, as if what he was seeing was so glorious that he couldn't look away.

Harry was so full of pride, could hardly restrain himself from doing a happy dance. Of course, he couldn't have done that anyway, because, with his lack of grace, he'd surely fall down and make an ass of himself. He had to be satisfied with the expression on Niall's face. And it was proof enough that Niall wasn't just trying to be polite. He was truly enchanted, just as Harry and Louis had been.

Only when the horses had their fill of water and began to file back to the rear of the valley did Niall remember his manners.

"Oh! I'm sorry. I was so caught up in that horse!" he hurriedly handed the binoculars to Harry, who batted them away.

"That's, like, okay. I get to see him every day," he explained with a winning smile. The smile that won everyone over. Louis didn't miss it either. He'd probably wither up and perish if he ever missed any of Harry's smiles. His heart squeezed in his chest.

"Now I see why you called my attention to that particular one," Niall looked almost misty eyed. "He's gotta be one of, if not the most, beautiful horse I've ever seen."

The compliment on the horse, coming from Niall, meant a lot. Harry knew Niall had seen a lot of horses in his twenty-something years. He'd been into horses almost his entire life.

"We'll be catchin' him for Harry," said Louis, not able to help himself from spilling the rest of the beans. Now Niall was beyond suspicious. Louis catching a mustang _just for Harry?_

"Hey, um . . . if you need help catchin' him in any way, you know, like helpin' to drive him into that corral, just let me know," Niall said almost shyly.

Louis threw a look at Harry, and the way Harry was smiling told Louis the answer. Once again, they didn't need words.

"We'd appreciate it if you want to help. I reckon we'll need all the help we can get with that one," Louis said. Harry nodded so hard that Louis feared his head would fall off his shoulders.

Niall was hardly able to contain his enthusiasm. "What day you plannin' on doin' it?" he asked.

"Whenever you're available," answered Louis with a satisfied grin. They surely _would_ need all the help they could get. Driving a herd of horses that were wild as March hares the distance to the corral from the creek would be a far from easy task, even with three men.

"I can come back in two days. Is that too late? Or I can even come back tomorrow." Niall was so eager that his eyes were rivaling the sun in their brightness.

"We can wait two days, until you bring supplies again," Louis offered. "In the meantime, Harry and I can do some plannin' about how we'll accomplish this feat. You might want to think about it too, because I'm sure we can use your ideas."

Niall nodded, truly enthralled with the thought of catching that splendid beast. And whatever was going on between Harry and Louis, it wasn't frivolous or superficial, because he'd never seen Louis look quite this happy.


	52. Chapter 52

They had a nice dinner with Niall, and lively conversation to go with it.

"He's a young 'un, ain't he?" asked Niall of the mustang they planned to catch.

"Yeah, should be three this year. That's my guess. I remember seein' him last year," Louis explained. "He's with a bachelor herd. And he's fast. When he ran, I swear Joaquin wouldn't be able to catch him even _without_ my weight."

"Jesus Christ," exclaimed Niall, as Joaquin was sort of a legend, everyone in Pecos aware of how fast he was. Louis had entered him in several races over the years. Not because he needed the money, but just to show him off. Louis had always given the money away to a family in need.

Everyone agreed on thinking over possible scenarios for the mustang capture, and then comparing notes when Niall came again with supplies in two days. At that time, after analyzing and shedding a critical eye on everyone's input, they would hopefully be able to make a definite plan, and then carry it out as soon as possible.

After Niall left, they were both wondering the same thing—had Niall figured it out? They agreed he _had_ to be at least a little suspicious. They'd both caught him looking at them with a dazed expression, as if he was just a little bit in shock, although he had handled it with grace. And of course he would be in shock. It had to have been quite a blow to him, after working with Harry for six months and Louis for years, and never having had an inkling that either one was gay.

They were both worn out. They'd worked hard and as fast as was reasonable to get the job done right.

Sitting and eating a dessert of brownies, hoping to renew some energy, they chewed quietly. They only had four brownies left between them because Niall had eaten seven. If you had any sense at all, you would conceal anything you didn't want Niall to eat, keeping it carefully out of sight. They hadn't been quick enough, and Louis was grateful Niall at least hadn't found the stash of candy bars. But they did consider that Niall had an hour's drive ahead of him, and he had to be at least as tired as they were, so he was forgiven.

Harry and Louis were becoming easier with each other now. Things were, at last, beginning to smooth out. It was a feeling that settled around them, unobtrusive, like the pleasantly cool, crisp fall weather that was tiptoeing up on them with no fanfare. They were launching a closeness with a total lack of pressure or tension. Each day brought more warmth that was more attainable than ever before.

A simple touch from Louis was all it took to fire up Harry's hormones, which were raging anyway, almost all of the time—something new for Harry. He was stunned at his reactions, and how he craved physical contact from Louis. Louis, pleased with this, seldom let ten minutes elapse without touching him in some way, even if it was just a brush of his arm. The aura of sensuality was reaching an all-time high, and the trust was building steadily.

Louis moved in to kiss him after the brownies had been devoured, and Harry found himself collapsing into bonelessness against Louis' hard body. As Louis' mouth and lips worked over his, Harry hummed his pleasure, and this in turn threw Louis' desire into overdrive. They fed off each other, the kiss being long, sweet, tender, and with a huge infusion of bridled passion. The lust was powerful, but the affection just as much so.

"You worked hard today, Hazza. Of course, you always do, but I fear you might have overdone today."

"I'm knackered alright, but so are you and Niall. We all worked hard. And I feel guilty because it'll be my horse."

Louis sighed loudly. "I've told you over and over that we're catchin' the horse for you because I want you to have the horse you fancy. I would have been catchin' a mustang anyway, you know."

"Yes, but one to work with and then sell, not _give to me_." Harry was still hung up on guilt, it was pretty plain for Louis to see.

"Look, I don't need the money. And it'll give me great pleasure if we catch that horse for you. Now just shut the fuck up about it and, for once, let yourself accept the gift and the experience. It's sommat I wanna do for you. You aren't allowin' me to enjoy this, you know."

It was hard to argue with that, so Harry draped his arm around Louis' waist as they sat there, resting his head on Louis' shoulder, as content as he'd ever dreamed he'd be.

"We'd better get to the creek and bathe before we get the sheets all sweaty and stinky," remarked Louis.

"I know. I wanna go bathe, but it's hard to get the motivation to get up and go."

Harry really was worn out, Louis could tell. His eyes were a little dull, glazed over, and he dragged his feet somewhat while walking. Louis didn't doubt Harry had done as much as, if not more than he himself had. He'd had the cement, posts and correct number of nails magically ready every time Louis started to reach for them. He had put major effort into digging the fence post holes too. Louis admired that about Harry, and had since the day he'd hired the lad. Harry was not afraid of work and he had sincere dedication.

"Let's go," Louis encouraged. "I can't wait to get you back here, although I think we both might be a bit too knackered to get wild tonight. We can spoon though, and that's enough for me. Until morning, that is." This brought a smile from Harry.

Louis was happier than he had thought possible that Harry was finally starting to accept innuendos such as this with grace and ease. It meant even more intimacy between them. There were some things he yearned to say more bluntly than this, but Harry was showing more receptiveness all the time. Patience, again, was key.

Once at the creek, they stripped, and each carried a bottle with them of their body wash and shampoo, depositing their clean sweats on top of a big rock beside their dirty, sweaty clothes. They would have just enough time to bathe and get back to the cabin before dark. As it was, they played a bit too long in the water, kissing, hugging, splashing at each other and swimming. The cool liquid did rejuvenate them to a point. Louis was astounded at how fast Harry could swim, because he himself was a strong swimmer, and not many could keep up with him. Harry matched him almost stroke for stroke. They laughed, and being good friends as well as lovers felt so right, so natural.

Louis brushed Harry's wet fringe out of his eyes affectionately as Harry's head emerged from the water in front of him, thinking about how sexy as hell it was whenever Harry's hair fell forward over his forehead and into his eyes.

Their naked bodies clinging to each other as they kissed deeply, the almost-desperation of their arousal made it difficult to extract themselves from each other long enough to wade out of the water and dry themselves on the towels they'd brought. The air was nippy and they were eager to get back to the cabin and into bed.

Both had full erections as they slipped into their sweats, and they teased each other lightly about it. Neither one had any lingering embarrassment about being seen naked by the other. That phase of their relationship was gone for good. That ship had sailed.

Both having to strain to keep their eyes open as they walked through the door of the cabin, eyes that were, nonetheless, still full of desire, they climbed into bed, and indeed ended up spooning. The desire couldn't come to fruition tonight, as both were fighting just to stay awake.

The sun was just starting to come up when Harry awoke. He looked at the other side of the bed to see Louis sprawled on his back, looking totally vulnerable. Louis vulnerable? What a rare sight!

But oh, he was so beautiful. His bronzed skin that was half under and half over the covers gave Harry just enough of a peep show as to be astonishingly enticing. The angle of his jaw, the curve of his biceps, the softness of his lips in sleep. One arm, elbow bent, rested carelessly above his pillow, the other at his side.

Harry's breathing accelerated. His boss and lover looked so peaceful, so free of worry. He was his Superman, and he was right here for the taking. How could Harry possibly refrain?

Harry made the decision in no more than two seconds. He slid the covers down with just two fingers, carefully so as not to wake his lover. The covers peeled back easily, and Louis' breathing remained deep and slow. Ah yes, just perfect. As the covers oh-so-slowly and tantalizingly revealed Louis' chest, then tummy, then lower . . . Harry felt wickedly sly as he slipped them to just below Louis' member, which, for once, was flaccid.

Before Louis could rouse to wakefulness, Harry enclosed his whole shaft in his mouth, sucking the softness, savoring its texture in his mouth, which he'd never had the opportunity to do before. So far, every time he'd gotten anywhere near it, it had already been fully erect. So this was a treat for Harry's palate. He felt it begin to harden gradually, and he enjoyed it, sucking in a slow rhythm until he heard Louis' voice through the fog of his thick desire.

A wistful moan, and then, "God, Harry. What a way to wake a guy up." Louis' voice was rough with sleep. Harry continued, causing Louis' hips to rise, his hard, muscled thighs to shake and tremble, his chest to rise and fall with mighty heaves.

The sucking by itself was amazing, but the things Harry was doing with his tongue! It seemed like a thousand sensations were whipping clear down into his legs and spine, fanning out, taking over his entire body. Like electrical sparks, each one eliciting a solo tingle. Louis knew he would be blowing his load very soon. Pre-come spurted onto Harry's tongue, and was eagerly accepted. Next, Harry began to deep throat him again, and now every nerve ending was screaming. This was one of Louis' top fantasies—to be awakened like this, and no one had ever done it before.

Harry's reaction was of sexual abandon. His mouth was hungry and relentless. He loved it, Louis could feel it, hear it in his harsh breathing. And that heightened his own desire to the summit. He cried out, his hands moving to Harry's head to tangle and bury his fingers in the younger lad's long hair. While he'd been oddly uptight during sex with women, just wanting release, he was moaning now with no inhibition. He was nearly rolling back and forth in the bed, the pleasure almost insufferable. Then he suddenly held Harry's head still as he exploded and pumped into him, shooting all he had down Harry's throat. Time after time, his body spasmed and his skin prickled with the intensity of it all. Covered in goose bumps, he gasped.

Easing off of him after milking him for a few minutes for the last drop Louis had to give, Harry inched up and rested his head on Louis' chest, sighing with contentment.

"Sorry if I was a bit on the roughshod side," apologized Louis, and even though he hadn't truly been rough, and never would with the lad, he had to remember Harry was new at this.

"No, you weren't at all. It got me all excited."

"How'd you know how to do that?" asked Louis.

"Do what?"

"Deep throat me like that."

"I heard the hands talking about it. I thought sommat like that wouldn't be possible, so I thought I'd try," Harry looked imploringly into Louis' eyes. "Did you fancy it? Because if you didn't –"

"Of course I did! I've never had that done to me, nor been awakened like that. You're really sommat, Harry. It feels . . . how do I describe it? I can't really. All I can say is, it feels massively erotic, me whole dick in your mouth and throat."

Harry loved the praise, and didn't quite know how to respond. He reached down and pressed his own erection against his belly with his palm because he just couldn't resist. He was so turned on.

"Hey, if you can wait just a few minutes until I catch me breath, we can suck each other at the same time, yeah?" suggested Louis.

"At the same time?" Harry's eyes widened with curiosity. He was breaking through his embarrassment with record speed, Louis noted.

"Yeah. I'll show you how. There's so much we can do, Haz. I want to do it all with you."

Louis was getting hard again. He wondered how many times it was possible to come in one day. As eager as Harry was, he was likely to find out. Louis was delighted that Harry seemed to be as sexually charged as he was. It seemed that every time they approached each other, lust tried its best to take control. Every time.

Within five minutes, Louis was coaxing Harry to turn around on the bed. At first, Harry was bewildered, but he caught on as soon as he found himself facing Louis' feet, and Louis facing his feet. His arousal rocketed when he felt Louis' wet, hot mouth on his dick. His impatience to experience this caused him to do the same thing to Louis, their groans echoing each other.

Louis prompted Harry to pump his hips by doing it himself. He wanted Harry to get all he could out of it, as Harry seemed to curb himself from thrusting too much at Louis' mouth, for fear, Louis supposed, that he'd be too overbearing.

"Don't be afraid to fuck me face, Harry," Louis said while disengaging his mouth just long enough to say the words, then engulfing Harry once again. Louis' words were so erotic, and it caught Harry by surprise, elevating his desire until he was unendurably horny. Louis tasted pre-come right after he'd said that, so he knew his words had turned Harry on.

It took them a short while to adjust, but when they did, they discovered the joys of sixty-nine very quickly. They got into a rhythm. Suck and lick for a while, then thrust for a while. Soon, they were like a well-oiled machine, stopping every so often to keep from coming too quickly. They were learning to delay their orgasms, knowing it would be even more powerful the longer they held back. They licked into each other's slits, sucked in their balls and rolled them on their tongues. Basically they experimented until each of them knew what the other especially liked. The sounds of uninhibited sucking, which Louis encouraged, made Harry feel as if he never wanted to stop. His lust overflowed, his governors turned to the "off" position, he projected his wildest inclinations. At least to date. He couldn't wait to see what the future would bring with Louis.

Harry began to suck especially hard, and his body was tensing up. Louis took that as the first indication that he was close, so Louis gave himself a little slack from the crushing hold he'd had on himself in an effort not to come before Harry did. He wanted them to come as closely together as possible. He had thought about this beforehand many times, and he just couldn't imagine how massively awesome it would be, and how great it would feel for them both. And not surprisingly, it fulfilled all his fantasies, and then some.

When Harry's legs began to quiver, Louis knew he was mere seconds away, so he pumped against Harry's mouth faster, and was close to that sweet, wonderful release when Harry erupted. He made the most erotic, frantic little noises around Louis' cock as he came, Louis just a few seconds behind him. They thrashed against each other, almost losing contact a few times, but not quite.

Harry felt himself spurting copiously on Louis' tongue, ribbons of carnal sensation skimming up and down his spine, his orgasm the best he'd had yet. He craved sucking and being sucked by Louis, so this was double the pleasure. How was it possible that anything could be this good? All the desire and buildup of feeling Louis' mouth devouring him as he did the same to Louis was almost too much for him to bear.

Louis had similar sensations, so powerful and mighty that, as his orgasm crashed over him like a hell-bent wave, he fairly bellowed around his mouthful.

They continued, with subdued stimulation until they were both utterly spent. Strong feelings began to come over Louis, and he wasn't sure what they meant. What he did know was that he wanted to hold Harry, and _NOW._ So once he was convinced they were both completely satisfied, he turned around and went willingly and eagerly into Harry's waiting, open arms.

They rested in silence, kissing and caressing each other gently. The kisses were tender and had so much feeling behind them that Louis found it hard to contain. Hands up and down backs, urging each other ever closer, and palms cupping faces tenderly. There was no need for words because their actions said it all.

Deep, sweet kisses that were anything but horny and needy, and Louis spoke. "That was the best sex I've ever had," it was said soberly, ten or so minutes later. "But you know what makes it even better?"

"What?" asked Harry, still stunned by Louis' comment.

"That extra good feeling I'm getting. The strong emotions."

Harry wasn't sure what Louis was saying, and he wasn't sure Louis knew either. But for now, he confessed to a similar affliction.

"I think I know what you're sayin.' I mean . . . I don't know what it is . . . but I think I feel it too," he stammered.

Louis felt just a touch of tension, or maybe that was anxiety? He couldn't put a label on it, but something seemed to be warning him to use caution. His feelings seemed to be way out of proportion for a simple sex act. But that was just it—it hadn't been a simple sex act. The emotions had run too high, he was breathing too easy now, he was too contented, and he didn't want to run away afterward like he had with women.

"It was full-on good. I feel high, even though I haven't had a single drink or drug," Louis smiled. He said the words almost like they were an afterthought, even to his own ears, but he knew it was his protective instinct at work. He needed to protect himself from . . . what?


	53. Chapter 53

"Why do we have these funny feelin's?" asked Harry, eyes wide with wonder, lips pursed thoughtfully.

Louis tried to play it cool, and maybe, just maybe, he did a little pretending too.

He ran his hand over his face, trying to maintain the little bit of composure he had left.

"I'm not sure," _Liar, liar!_ Resounded in his head. " But . . . I do know sommat. I walked 'round that ranch actin' like I was the shit. But you, Haz . . . you've humbled me." At least part of his statement had been true, and he tried to justify his fib to himself with that knowledge.

Harry was stunned into silence, absorbing and processing the words. Or at least trying to ferret out what Louis was really saying.

"And that's good, right?" he asked after a few seconds.

"You wanker, of course it is!" Louis chuckled, hugging Harry tight, then punching him lightly on the arm. "Tis nothin' but good!"

"But what do you reckon those feelin's are?" Harry persisted.

Louis felt like growling, or maybe howling, Yeah, howling would be better. It might ward off his frustrations more effectively. Harry was grabbing hold of his heart, being so innocent about it, and Louis wanted more than anything to profess his love. But he couldn't. Not now. It would be too easy to swamp Harry and overwhelm him, the result possibly being fear or even all-out panic. He had to go slow with his young lover, if he wanted to keep him.

"We'll sort it out, Haz. But for right now, I reckon I'm hungry. How 'bout you?"

It seemed to be effective in getting Harry's thought process off track and onto another one, especially since his stomach was rumbling. But Harry knew Louis was dodging his question. He was content though, for the moment, to let himself be sidetracked, but he certainly would not forget about it. If Louis thought he was going to get off that easy . . . Harry smiled to himself.

"What's that all about?" Louis had been watching Harry's face, and he'd seen the uncertainty, then the grin of satisfaction that had followed in those full lips and extended to those evergreen eyes.

"Nothin.' I'll tell you later," Harry said mysteriously. Two could play at this game.

"Rubbish. You've got sommat on your mind," Louis retorted.

"So do you."

Well, Harry had surely won _that_ match! He was getting feisty, and Louis was finding out he liked it. Harry with a bit of an edge could prove to be exciting . . . Well, for now, they would get busy fixing breakfast, then they'd start brainstorming about catching Harry's horse. Later on, they could delve deeper into _feelings._

Harry surrendered, for the moment, when Louis dropped the subject. He had also determined, however, that he was going to find out exactly what Louis' feelings were. He had a hunch that Louis knew precisely what the feelings were, and Harry was intent on finding out at his first opportunity. But for now, he enjoyed breakfast with Louis.

They went over several plans, every one of which there was a significant obstacle, making that particular strategy well-nigh worthless. The biggest stumbling block always came back to one thing—how they would manage to drive the horses the distance to the row of bushes against the rock face. With only three men, the distance between them would be too great to form a line that the horses would naturally avoid. They'd have to very aggressively keep the horses going in the correct direction, and they'd have to block them if they tried to go to either the left or right of the row of bushes instead of between them. Which meant some serious maneuvering would be in order.

Another concern was how cautious the mustangs had been when they'd come to drink ever since the day Louis and Harry had made the attempt to rope the grey pinto. It was likely their only source of water, which was the only thing that forced them to come back. It was either that or go thirsty. Louis had noted that it took them easily three times longer to approach the water than it had before the attempted capture. So the horses would be suspicious and tentative at best, and that would make their job to try to wrangle them even more difficult. With the horses even more on guard than usual, any mistake, however slight, could cause them to flee before the men could hardly get in motion.

It would have to be an ambush of sorts. Niall, Louis and Harry would have to ride out of hiding in just exactly the right position, hell bent for leather, in order to startle the horses enough for them to think of nothing but outrunning the men and their horses. They'd have to be caught completely and totally by surprise.

There was no other way to do it, with so few men, than the most straightforward way. From behind bushes in strategic places without being seen by the mustangs, they would charge the animals and just hope they could get them moving in the right direction—toward the bushes against the rock face. The bushes they would hide behind might not be in ideal locations, so that was also a concern.

Louis was disappointed that they couldn't think of any other way that had a ghost of a chance of being effective. Hopefully Niall would have a better idea. But they wouldn't know that until they saw him the next day.

"Remember how I told you it would be dodgy when I tried to rope that horse?" asked Louis. Harry nodded. "Well, it's gonna be even more dodgy this time. It'll be a miracle if we can get them to go where we want them. Let's just pray Niall comes up with a clever idea."

They discussed it until they were blue in the face. Harry's confident, sanguine attitude concerned Louis. Even though they'd missed the mustang on the first try, Harry seemed to hang onto his hero worship of Louis, having complete faith in Louis' abilities to do just about anything, whereas Louis didn't want the younger man to be crushed if this didn't work out. He needed to get this image of him as some kind of Superman out of Harry's head.

"It could end up being dreadful," he stated emphatically, hoping Harry would see the logic in his statement. "What we will be attemptin' to do has a fairly high probability of not workin.' Even _with_ the fence we built."

But Harry was not to be dissuaded. He persisted in being upbeat and hopeful. Well, Louis feared his Cheshire companion would have to learn to be more pragmatic and sensible, and unfortunately, it might mean bitter disappointment for him if the horses evaded them again. Worse, Louis was fresh out of ideas.

"You have to be practical, Harry," he said, feeling helpless in the worst way. "The horses definitely have the advantage." Now Louis was second guessing this idea altogether. Catching a mustang was one thing, but Harry had his heart set on the grey pinto, and he'd made the mistake of leading Harry to thinking he would capture the horse for him. That had been his biggest mistake. It was his fault for boosting Harry's hopes like he had. The horse appeared to be powerful, and most important, very fast. The odds were stacking up against them. If he let Harry down, he'd feel even worse than he did right now.

Louis wished he could call Niall to discuss the subject with him, but it was clear by now that it wasn't going to happen. There was no signal, even if his phone had been charged.

The remainder of the day was spent casting furtive glances at each other, as was now their custom. Flirting, touching discreetly—and not so discreetly. Harry never did get Louis to discuss the "feelings" topic. He made numerous attempts, but Louis' manner seemed to imply that Harry must be patient. And so he stopped pestering Louis, instead allowing Louis to stroke his lustrous hair, and brush it to a fantastic gleam under the sun, his head in Louis' lap. Those curls straightened for only as long as the brush was connected to them, bouncing right back as soon as the brush disengaged. Louis watched in awe as they sprung right back to their previous state, admiring all the while, and reflecting how his own hair was just as straight as Harry's was curly.

They exchanged burning looks that could have set fires, as well as fond, gentle looks that spoke of love not expressed out loud. They both felt it as they practiced their stares that were now commonplace, but the words didn't leave their mouths.

Dawn the next day found Harry and Louis having their usual morning coffee, both too excited to sleep any later. They were eagerly awaiting Niall's arrival, hoping he would have an original idea for catching the mustangs.

All was quiet on the mountaintop as Saber and Joaquin, ten feet away, munched on their morning hay, chewing contentedly, and that was the only sound to be heard as Harry and Louis sipped their coffee. It was comforting, and it subdued their restless yearnings. Yeah, _restless yearnings,_ thought Harry _._ For a man, to be inclusively frank and candid. One particular man. The mustang was only secondary.

"I reckon I'd be happy here with you for the rest of me life," Harry drawled slowly, in his deliberate way.

Louis' hand reached over to Harry's, clasping it wordlessly, and they intertwined their fingers. Louis' throat felt tight and the backs of his eyes began to sting. Harry's raw honesty got to him every time.

They kissed long and slow, almost languidly. This kiss wasn't sexual. It was tender, no tongues involved, just carefully tempered passion. Lips moving over lips, breaths intermingling. Louis hoped he was getting his message across. He wanted Harry to detect his strong emotions. He wanted Harry to know of his sincerity. A kiss can reveal much if the soul is put into it, and Louis poured it on, drenching Harry in it, wanting to communicate how deeply his feelings ran.

Harry felt it—how could he not? He returned it, striving to illustrate his own intense passion. He made little noises. Little begging noises. Begging Louis to love him.

 _You don't have to beg, Harry. I'm already in that place meself._

Niall arrived at nine, all smiles and positivity. "Hey, Tommo!" But when asked if he'd come up with anything as they all sat on the mountaintop, Niall sadly denied he'd come up with anything magically unique. All he had was more or less the same idea they'd had. Positioning and hiding behind bushes, then rushing the herd. Louis hadn't expected Niall to have any novel ideas, because there simply weren't any. With only three guys, there weren't many options-they'd have to do the best they could. That was the long and short of it.

So they discussed it for three solid hours, throwing ideas back and forth, noting and pointing to where the bushes were located and deciding which ones they would use to hide behind. Hoping the wind would be right and not carry their scent to the wild horses.

Harry tried to grab for another sandwich, but couldn't quite reach it. Since the sandwiches were closest to Louis, he grasped one and handed it to Harry.

"Here ya go, babe." It was too late by the time he realized what he'd said. The words were already out there, naked and exposed. And Niall heard it, of course. Niall was always all ears. He gave the impression that he'd been just waiting for something like this to happen.

" _Babe_?" said Niall quietly, eyeing Louis sideways, not quite meeting his eyes, as if he was afraid to look directly at his boss.

Louis cleared his throat, trying to fill in time, inwardly panicking and not having the faintest clue what to say—how to justify what he'd just said.

Harry tried, he tried hard, to stifle his giggle. But he didn't quite accomplish it. Pieces of bread shot out of his mouth because he'd just taken a bite of the sandwich, and chewing and laughing didn't go well together.

Louis gave Harry the stink eye because what else could he do? He didn't dare look at Niall, and still, he couldn't find any words to somehow deny what Niall had heard. It couldn't be altered or even edited.

Niall simply sat there, eyes darting back and forth between Harry and Louis like he was watching a tennis match, analyzing their expressions, tediously examining every eyebrow twitch, every glance, every flinch. And there were plenty of them. Louis' poker face was mysteriously not working today. And Harry, well, Harry might as well have hung it up. He was all but _advertising_ that they were lovers. He couldn't stop giggling, and then the giggling turned into real laughter, and he had no choice but to turn his back because most of the bite of his sandwich was still in his mouth, and he was horrified at the thought of spewing it all over both Louis and Niall. Trying to keep from choking, he finally chewed and swallowed it, then faced the other two again, only to collapse into giggles again.

"Well, I guess that's what we'll have to do then. Hide behind the bushes and . . . " Louis tried to carry on with the conversation as it was going before Harry had reached for the sandwich, but he failed all the way across the board. He stopped talking in the middle of his sentence, and lashed out at Harry.

"Harry, will you stop it?!" he railed, trying to sound authoritative, but only succeeding in melting into laughter himself. By now, Harry was literally rolling, holding his stomach because it was sore from all the pent up giggles.

Niall watched on, totally engrossed in the scene unfolding before his eyes.

"Jesus!" he exclaimed, but no further words followed. He didn't want to say anything out loud for fear of incensing Louis.

"I'm sorry, Lou," Harry was finally able to articulate without losing his self-control again.

"Bloody hell. Johnny knows, Leo knows, and now Niall knows!" Louis sounded exasperated, but oddly, his serene expression didn't match his words. Harry got the feeling Louis was a little bit relieved that Niall had discovered their secret so he wouldn't have to tell him.

"You guys . . . you guys are . . . _together_?" Niall looked like he'd seen a ghost. His pale Irish complexion now sported a bright red spot on each cheek.

Harry didn't say anything, but Louis nodded sagely.

"And Johnny and Leo know about it?" Niall looked almost indignant that he hadn't been let in on the secret.

Louis fidgeted and looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole.

"Johnny would never tell, and Leo apparently doesn't want to stir anythin' up," Louis said.

"Damn!" Niall didn't know what else to say, so he kept it to the one word.

"It's not your fault, Haz," Louis just remembered that Harry had apologized. "It's me fault. I'm the one who said . . . . _babe."_ Louis squirmed again and shuddered at his indiscretion.

"I never . . . um, I didn't know . . . " Niall stuttered.

"Don't fret Nialler. No one knew . . . until recently . . . except maybe Johnny," soothed Louis.

"How did Johnny know?" Niall's eyes were huge again.

"Well, he sorta suspected stuff," Louis said evasively.

"Then how'd Leo find out?"

"We were a little . . . indiscreet when he was here last time he brought supplies," explained Louis. Of course, Niall instantly thought Leo had caught them at something.

"Nothin' like that," Louis said quickly after seeing Niall's eyes grow even bigger.

"We kinda put our arms 'round each other," Harry chimed in, because he was afraid Louis was going to have a nervous breakdown. "Leo wanted to stay, and, well . . . there aren't any accommodations for him."

Louis had to smile at the delicate way Harry had clarified things.

Niall's eyes at last reflected his understanding after he'd mulled over it, putting all the pieces together.

"Damn," he said again, still not knowing for sure what was the right and wrong thing to say.

"I didn't know . . .either one of you were . . ."

"Gay?" asked Harry, innocence fairly blazing off him.

Louis felt a rush of affection for his lover. He was so open about things, because it came naturally to him. He hadn't liked being deceitful; Louis could see that so lucidly now. Harry wasn't comfortable with lies and/or secrecy. Yet Harry had never complained to him. He'd simply waited until Louis himself was ready.

Niall nodded, nonplussed and astonished that both men, one of which he'd worked with for years, had had hidden lives, or at the least, unrevealed desires that he hadn't had a trace of an inkling about.

"Lou, you of all people . . . I never had a clue . . . it's a shock," Niall finished weakly.

"Innit?" said Louis, half-chuckling and half-blushing.

"Well, when do you want to go ahead with this plan?" Louis was again trying to steer the conversation back to the mustangs, figuring enough had been said for now.

"How 'bout in two days? I'll trailer a good, quick horse out here for me, and let's get her done!" Niall was all optimistic again. "I'm buzzin.' We're gonna smash it!"

Louis smiled at Niall's choice of words—words he himself often used. Niall was developing more individuality as time went on, but he still quoted people he admired, so Louis took it as a compliment.

As they waved Niall off, Louis slipped his arm around Harry's shoulders and pulled him close.

"Lou! He can probably see us in his rear view mirror!" Harry gasped.

Louis scoffed softly. "Haz, he already knows about us, remember? And we're hardly gonna keep it hidden like it's still under wraps around him, are we?"

This made Harry's dimples become prominent. "Yeah, I guess not," he agreed.

This meant they had the whole day tomorrow to prepare for the capture, but that wouldn't take long. All they needed to do was make sure they had the equipment they needed, which was really just the right ropes and a lot of courage. The rest of the day they could spend exclusively together. They both anticipated it eagerly.

"I hope me mum and friends aren't too worried," Harry murmured.

"Don't bother yourself with it. I told Niall to be sure to call them at least every two days, after we've been brought supplies to let them know you're fine, and havin' a lotta fun. He's been doin' it too; I asked him."

This made Harry grin hugely and cling to him, which was always welcome, because Louis rather liked his Velcro boyfriend.

The next morning they both shaved, because Louis was getting quite a beard. It was half an inch long, and he'd never let it grow out more than to a fashionable stubble before. Harry didn't have much to shave; only haphazard patches of fine hair on his face, but he did anyway, because he knew Louis loved his baby face looking smooth and fresh. He took care to notice what Louis liked, even if Louis didn't voice it aloud. At Harry's request, Louis didn't shave super close. Neither one had to ask or explain why. Wry smiles told the story.

Louis watched Harry stroll casually around the cabin while stark naked. Harry no longer being modest with Louis, was so appealing, keeping Louis' entire attention on him. Louis was stunned at how much he was attracted to a confident Harry. Or a shy Harry. Really, it didn't matter. He was attracted to Harry regardless. Harry was still oblivious to how he drew Louis' attention, and Louis wasn't sure if the younger man would ever realize his allure.

Arousal hummed through Harry the moment Louis touched him, and this was only a sloppy kiss to his neck as Louis passed him, on his way to get a drink of water from the bottle sitting on a counter.

Harry couldn't very well hide it though, as he was naked, and his body reacted before he took his next breath. Louis, upon returning to once again sit on the bed, took note of Harry's stiffening member.

"Just from that quick peck on the neck?" he asked. He knew it had to be, as he'd kept tabs, and it had been completely soft before. Even soft, it was long, hanging down much lower than most guys, but even at half-mast, like right now, it was truly impressive. When fully erect, it was nothing short of magnificent.

"Let's go outside and sit in the sun. Soon it'll be too cold to go out naked," suggested Louis. "Might as well take advantage while we can," he added with a cunning, roguish grin.

Unable to resist, Harry obediently bounded out the door, plopping down on the blanket that was now permanently spread out on the ground. It was useful for eating meals, talking, staring down at the valley, and for making love.

A naked Louis was at his side almost immediately, gathering Harry into his lap expressly so he could slide his hands through all that silky, curly hair again. His fingers tingled and itched for it. Harry naturally closed his eyes to fully enjoy the experience. Louis played with that glorious hair for a few minutes, then surprised Harry.

Harry felt Louis lean over, sensing the sun blocked out from behind his closed eyelids, and Louis' wet mouth was on his nipple before he could form another thought. Harry gasped. He was still amazed that a man's nipples could be so sensitive. He'd always thought he was weird because his nipples hardened whenever he had an even slightly sexy thought, but Louis had assured him that it was very arousing, and so he was less self-conscious about it now. In fact, he was actually a little bit proud of it.

Louis swirled his tongue in just a way that caused Harry to arch his back, a moan rumbling in his chest. Louis sucked then, and Harry grabbed onto Louis' own hair, not wanting his lover to stop.

"Whenever they get hard under your shirt, I have to struggle with meself not to tear your shirt open," admitted Louis. He spent some time on that nipple, then went to the other to do it all over again. Harry's cock was twitching and jerking with each suck. He could just barely reach Louis' nipple if he lifted his head, which he did. Louis' breath hitched. Now they were both enjoying the sensations at the same time. The electric passion coursed back and forth between them. After a while of this, Louis commented.

"I taught you how to sixty-nine, and you taught me sommat new as well. Simultaneous nipple stimulation. God, it feels good. Neither one might have prior knowledge about what two men do, but I say we have a very good start on it."


	54. Chapter 54

Louis was achingly steel hard from their mutual nipple play, and Harry had no trouble transitioning from Louis' nipple over to his dick. He settled between Louis' legs, hungry and eager. His hair draped over Louis' thighs, causing Louis to quiver with the sensation and the resulting desperate need. A strand would occasionally fall between his thighs, and it had to be the most silky, sensual feeling in the world. It tickled and provoked.

"Oh! Haz. Your mouth feels so fuckin' incredible . . . " Louis was hardly coherent. He was under Harry's spell, Harry's mouth working his special magic that made Louis weak and helpless as a soaking wet kitten. Harry sucked harder and faster, not even registering the slurping noises he was making. Louis had shown him, through example, how sultry being completely unrepressed could be. The desire was boiling hot, and Louis abandoned himself to the heat just as Harry did. Their writhing bodies painted an extremely erotic picture there, on the top of the mountain. Louis' climax echoed off the rock face on a mighty cry of passion and unvoiced love. 

Niall had the biggest of smiles plastered all over his face as he exited the truck the next morning. "Wicked!" he cried when he saw Louis and Harry. "I'm ready!"

Louis wished he could be as absolutely confident and cocksure as Niall was, so sure that they were going to capture the grey and white pinto mustang today. It was infectious—Harry was also confident and was inspired even more by Niall's attitude, even though Louis had warned him that the odds were against them catching the horse. Slightly annoyed, Louis hated the idea of disappointing them. It was on his shoulders, and he didn't feel nearly adequate enough to pull this off.

Niall unloaded one of the Rocking Horse Ranch's best cow horses from the trailer he'd hauled here today. Louis nodded his approval at Niall's choice of mount. Not as fast as Joaquin, but the closest they had on the ranch, the gelding was nevertheless quick on his feet, could do razor sharp turns, and sported tremendous acceleration from a standstill.

Once down in the valley, they took note of each bush they would be utilizing. In other words, hiding behind. They all passed muster but one. Louis cast a critical eye at the offending bush, which looked like it would just barely conceal a horse and rider. He would have chosen a thicker one, but you had to take what was handed to you. He hoped the mustangs wouldn't get wise to them before the chase even began.

Each cowboy was assigned a bush, and Harry, having the smallest horse, got the bush that Louis wasn't completely convinced would hide him.

"We'll just have to work with what we've got," he explained to Harry, who was also concerned about it. "Just make sure Saber stays still. And remember, at my signal, we'll have to rush those mustangs straightaway, and toward the rock face with no hesitation. No holdin' back at all. It's our only strategy, and we have to give it all we've got. There'll be no second chances."

Harry and Niall nodded, understanding they would be asking their horses to gallop literally as fast as they could, all the way to the rock face. It wouldn't take long at all at the speed they'd be going. Louis was slightly concerned that Harry's horse Saber might trip and fall, but there was no help for it. It was what it was.

Once it had been drummed into their heads exactly what their jobs were—and it really couldn't have been more simple-they went back to the mountaintop to wait until shortly before the mustangs would arrive for their drink of water. Louis knew there was no way anyone was going to mess up. If it could be done, the three of them were more than qualified. It was just a matter of how the mustangs reacted—if they would run in the right direction.

Actually, Louis couldn't have two better hands to help with this. Niall and Harry were both accomplished horsemen and neither one seemed to have any fear or hesitation in dicey situations. Johnny would have been great help too, but Louis doubted even Johnny could do a better job than these two. Louis felt his chest swell with pride. He really was blessed. Every one of his ranch hands were right on the money when it came to doing their best, and having your back too.

Back on the mountaintop, Niall was silently sizing things up. He watched Louis when Harry talked, the rancher's eyes going from Harry's green orbs to his full mouth and lips. It seemed as if Louis couldn't look away, and there was a spark in his eyes Niall hadn't ever seen before. Niall had never seen Louis behave in this way either. The Irish lad was still in shock, and at first, had found it hard to believe, wondering if the two of them might be pulling his leg. But the more he observed them together, the more he was inclined to accept it as the truth. He saw how Louis was held rapt by Harry's every movement or gesture; his interest consistently peaked. Over the next few hours, Niall saw the two of them trade a lot of little innuendos that were barely noticeable, secret grins, and a lot of soft behavior displayed on Louis' part that was directed toward Harry. He'd been afraid he would feel uncomfortable being around them now that he knew the truth, but he instead found himself pretty much at ease, even trying to imagine them together when no one else was around. He could totally see Louis being tender with Harry, and the thought of Louis being tender with another man had never even occurred to Niall before. Because he'd never known Louis was gay. How that had slipped past him was a complete mystery. Niall knew about the women, but he also knew Louis never stayed with any of them, had never had a girlfriend, and he had never really dated, either. He concluded that Harry was good for Louis—he took some of his rough edges off.

Now that Niall reflected on it, Louis had changed once Harry had come along. Louis had been more gruff and uncompromising than he'd ever been before when Harry had shown up. Now Niall knew why. Louis had been trying to resist his attraction to Harry, and the way he had done that was to act like he was opposed to Harry's presence. Almost as if he despised him. After some time had elapsed though, Louis had begun to morph into someone that Niall no longer recognized. It was subtle, and very measured, and Niall wasn't sure what it was all about at first. Louis had, at some point, allowed Harry to get under his skin, and gradually he had gotten friendly with Harry. Niall had thought Louis had finally accepted him, but now he saw that it was so much more intricate than that. Harry had won him over, as he'd done with everyone else on the ranch. But, in Niall's estimation, Harry had unknowingly gone a step further and had also caused Louis to fall in love with him.

Niall was certain it wasn't just sex that was between them. He couldn't imagine Harry just using anyone in that way, and Niall could see that the Cheshire man had also brought out the best in Louis. The way they looked at each other. . . Harry had influenced the rancher, and in short, had made him happy. Well, Niall had nothing against what was happening between his boss and fellow ranch hand. More power to Harry for breaking through Louis' rough and tough exterior to the caring man they all knew was underneath. Harry had coaxed out all the good—and the others knew it had been there all along because Louis didn't fool anyone on the ranch. There was plenty of good in the man, and as a result, Harry made life a lot more smooth for everyone else. If this is what the two of them wanted, then Niall wished them all the best.

The moment had finally come to station themselves at their assigned bushes. Niall's cheeks were red and splotchy, and Harry was breathing hard—Louis sat woodenly in the saddle. Those were the only signs that the cowboys were tense about this endeavor. They hadn't discussed being nervous, but the tension was thick in the air just the same.

They only had to wait about twenty-five minutes this time. Harry was mentally willing Saber to obey and stand quietly so as not to ruin it for all of them. So far, he hadn't moved a hoof or made a peep.

The bachelor herd of young stallions inched along, cautious as ever, thirsty but putting attentiveness and vigilance first, as any prey animal had to do in order to remain alive and safe. Saber snorted right as the herd shuffled closer to the creek. Harry cussed under his breath, but the mustangs must have assumed it was one of their own because they kept moving. Louis' hand, tense on the reins, held his rope in the other hand, should he need to rope a mustang for any reason. Niall looked like he was ready to pass out from the stress, and Harry was a study of concentration, staring at Louis and waiting for the signal. Harry could see Louis clenching his jaw, the muscle there popping out briefly and repeatedly.

Just as the mustangs began to drink, one of the mustangs must have seen Harry and Saber behind the spindly bush, because suddenly all the wild horses' heads were up and turned, ears pricked in Harry's direction. Louis, sensing the herd was about to make a break for it, gave the signal, and Harry, Niall and Louis cued their horses to run forward toward the mustangs. They came at a slight angle, toward the side of the mustangs, and common sense would dictate the wild horses would run to the opposite side, away from where they always came from in the rear of the valley, and that is just what happened.

None of the horses tried to get past the cowboys, instead running full speed ahead at the rock face, just as planned. Harry loosened the reins and let Saber go, and the horse needed no urging. He was caught up in the chase, taking great pleasure in it, in fact. Niall was just ahead of Harry, and Louis was slightly off to the other side in the event the horses tried to take off in that direction.

When they reached the rock face, Louis tried to time it so he would veer off to the other side to run them toward the pen at just the right moment. This way, the horses would be pressured from both sides. Harry and Niall brought up the rear, and Louis did just that. It was with impeccable calibration, and Harry admired how precise and efficient Louis was, even in this harrowing circumstance.

The dust was flying, hooves beating a drumming tattoo in the Texas dirt. The mustangs came so close to Harry's horse that he could smell their sweat, almost feel their labored breath on his skin, even saw what he thought was the grey and white pinto's long flowing mane waving in the breeze at very close range as they whizzed past within feet of him. When the horses saw Louis, however, they naturally tried to go back the way they had come instead of filing into the corridor between the bushes and the rock face. Louis' timing had been just a fraction of a second off, but that was all it took. In an instant, the mustangs had turned back. Suddenly, Niall and Harry were faced with a dozen wild horses, each weighing at least eight hundred pounds, bearing right down on them, their eyes wide, foam flecking their mouths, ears folded back, intent on escaping man, their most feared enemy.

Harry gritted his teeth and kept Saber going straight ahead, finessing the reins, driving the horse forward with legs of steel that in reality, felt like rubber. Saber, however, needed no encouragement. Harry knew how desperate, and therefore, reckless these horses were. They would do anything to get away. At his side, he could see Niall in his peripheral vision, running neck and neck with him. If the mustangs crashed into them, they would certainly be seriously hurt, or killed.

"Harry! Niall! Careful!" Louis didn't have time to say anything more, because the mustangs were almost upon the cowboys. There was nothing they could do now anyway. Saber was out of control at this point. Harry knew he wouldn't be able to stop him even if he tried. The horse was overly excited with the speed of the chase, and hadn't had as much experience as Niall and Louis' horses. So at this point, Harry was basically holding on for life, and hoping there wouldn't be a collision. They got so close, Harry could see one of the mustang's teeth as he curled up his lip in the supreme effort he was putting into attempting to run to freedom.

At the last second, as the mustangs closed in, and just as Harry was preparing himself for a horrible thud as he was hit with half a ton of horseflesh-or two or three; one of the equines performed a perfect sliding stop, wheeling around in a nanosecond to launch himself back in Louis' direction. Louis quickly diverted him with a yell and a fresh burst of speed, and the horse ended up going between the barrier of the thick bushes and the rock face—right where Louis wanted him. The other horses followed suit, each one sliding and then wheeling in the same manner, Harry and Niall yelling and swinging their ropes into the air to drive them on.

The next few seconds were bone chilling as the cowboys pursued the mustangs furiously, wondering if the wild horses might turn yet again, and this time, would surely run them down, as the space between the bushes and the rock face was just too precariously narrow. Niall, Louis and Harry were running hotly on adrenaline however, and young men with this hormone pumping through their veins were relentless, untouchable. At least that was what they believed. And belief is a powerful motivator. Just their highly aggressive bearings alone had the mustangs alarmed enough to keep them fleeing as fast as their hooves would carry them.

They were fairly flying over the ground, Louis having somehow maneuvered his horse between Harry and Niall, then lunging to the front. Harry had no idea how Louis had managed it in the narrow corridor. But he knew in an instant that, if the horses decided to try to turn around again, Louis wanted to be in front, to protect Niall and Harry as much as was possible.

When the first few mustangs thundered into the corral, the cowboys drove the last ones relentlessly, hooting and hollering, slapping their ropes against their thighs to keep them traveling forward. When the last one plunged through the gate, Niall and Louis pulled their horses to a skidding stop, but Harry was out of luck. Saber was so wholeheartedly into this that he kept going, and as Louis was in the process of slamming the gate shut, Harry was hauling on the reins because there was nowhere to go. The thick bushes were on the left, the rock face on the right.

The next thing Harry knew, Saber had slammed into the gate. The velocity was so great that Harry was flung forward in the saddle, skipping over the top of Saber's neck, and diving head first right into the pen with the wild mustangs. Louis was off his horse and grabbing Harry's jeans at the belt before Harry even touched the ground. He hauled Harry back to the fence, where Harry climbed it back to safety. With the tremendous momentum suddenly and abruptly gone, Harry thought of his horse before anything else, which is what all good cowboys did. He checked Saber's face, neck and chest. Aside from a clearly stunned horse, there was only some hair that had been scraped off his chest. Otherwise, Saber looked unhurt.

"You okay? He okay?" Louis asked, concern transparent on his features.

"I'm okay, and he seems to be," was Harry's out-of-breath reply. "Thanks for savin' me. They're all in the pen, aren't they?"

"Yep!" Louis' pride was so overwhelming that he looked more animated than Harry had ever seen him. "You guys were incredibly brilliant. Well done, well done."

Niall looked just as proud as his boss. "I can't believe we actually caught 'em!" he exclaimed.

Harry was still in shock. That they'd been successful was surreal to him. He'd known the odds were against them. Louis had reminded him of that many times.

The mustangs were highly agitated, of course, and Louis watched them for a few minutes, not speaking. He looked to be afraid one of them might scale the six foot fence, and Harry knew that if one did, the others might also try. Louis was also afraid the wild horses would injure themselves. But after about ten minutes of insane running, and sometimes crashing into the fence, the mustangs realized they were enclosed, with no way out. They began to settle, although they stayed pressed tight against the fence furthest away from the cowboys, wild-eyed and trembling, clearly terrified.

"Let's leave 'em alone for a while to calm down. Then we can come back with water and some hay. Stay back so we don't spook 'em even worse."

Louis didn't need to say that though, as Harry and Niall both knew what to do, having complete understanding of equine behavior. Harry had a difficult time ripping his gaze away from the pinto, who looked even stockier and more fabulous at close range than he had by way of the binoculars. All the mats and tangles in that fabulous mane and tail—Harry couldn't wait to comb them out. But he knew it would be a long time and a lot of work to finally gain the young stallion's trust enough to be able to lay hands on him.

"Look at his conformation!" exclaimed Louis. Harry was well aware of how well the horse was put together, A nice laid back shoulder, indicating he'd be smooth to ride, nicely angled hocks and well developed, balanced front and hind quarters. Nice short, strong back, and a small, elegant head and long, arching neck that looked like he must have some Arabian blood.

"He's perfect," Harry said dreamily.

"That's it, in a nutshell," Niall agreed. "I can't believe we succeeded, even when that mustang saw Harry behind that bush and spooked the others!"

"I know!" agreed Louis. "It still worked out . . ." he shook his head in near disbelief at what they'd accomplished.

After riding a short distance away, Niall and Harry whooped and Niall even jumped out of the saddle to do a bit of an Irish jig in celebration. This brought smiles from Harry and Louis.

"Honestly, I didn't think we'd be able to catch 'em," admitted Louis. "I thought it was just a pipe dream that was worth tryin' for, but I didn't think we had one chance in ten of actually capturing 'em."

"What'll you do with the other mustangs?" asked Niall.

"Oh, turn 'em loose, of course. But not until the pinto calms down and feels a little easier about bein' in that pen," stated Louis. "Wouldn't want to take all his friends away. We can wait until he gets on with our horses," Louis said, indicating Joaquin and Saber.

"Yeah, that sounds a lot less harsh," Harry said, admiring his boss for putting so much consideration into the wild horse's feelings. Louis _did_ have a heart, and quite a large one, at that.

"Mind if I go for a dip?" asked Niall a moment later.

"'Course not! Have at it!" Louis replied, and Niall turned his horse and cantered toward the creek. Louis took the opportunity to dismount and urged Harry to as well. They hugged long and sweet, and again, all the emotions came to a head. Harry's mustang had been caught, and, with Niall's help, they'd accomplished it without a lot of difficulty. Just some hair-raising moments.

"For a minute there, I thought those mustangs were gonna fuck you up but good," Louis' voice was scratchy, and Harry realized he was feeling emotional. "I never would have forgiven meself."

"Well, you know how horses aren't stupid," Harry soothed. "They put on the brakes and fancied they'd better get away from us monsters."

And then, just as quickly as Harry could look into the rancher's eyes, Louis was kissing him. Right out in the open where all Niall had to do was to look over and see them.

"Niall . . . " said Harry after they had broken apart, even though he hadn't made any effort to stop the kiss.

"Hell with that. Niall knows about us. Therefore, he knows we kiss," Louis' tone was teasing, and Harry found himself feeling rather proud that the rancher was his boyfriend.

"Oh, and . .. like, thanks for savin' me life," Harry said, feeling uncomfortably warm all of a sudden.

"I didn't though."

"Yes you did. When Saber rammed into the fence and I sailed right over the rail."

"Oh, well. You would've just gotten up and climbed out," Louis reminded him.

"Maybe not, if I'd fallen on me head, and that's the way it was goin,'" Harry mumbled, embarrassed.

"You would've put your hands out. But I'm glad you didn't end up under those churnin' hooves!" Louis threw his head back and laughed. "Wish I had video coverage of that."

"How'd you get to me so quick?"

"I'm Superman, remember?"


	55. Chapter 55

"Saber didn't do too bad, did he?" Harry inquired of Louis, proud that his young horse had handled wrangling the mustangs right along with the other two horses.

"Yeah, he looked to do a decent job. You do need to work on your halts though," Louis chuckled. "He's got more go than whoa."

"Yeah. I don't work on the halts at speed very much. And he got out of control at the end there, but he didn't trip!"

"True, that. He's young. He's got lotsa years to learn it all. But a good "whoa" is damn important. In any case, you still slayed it." This was sincere praise from Louis, and Harry knew it. He'd worked with Louis long enough to know the man didn't hand out compliments with any regularity. So he savored it, took the felicity from it and tasted the sweetness, allowed himself to soak in just what it was. _Victory._

"We need to celebrate the capture of your horse tonight," All of a sudden Louis couldn't seem to get close enough to Harry. The excitement of the chase and capture had turned to sexual heat. He nuzzled Harry's neck, still riding on the high of catching the mustangs. The smell of their sweat mingled, causing that familiar fluttering in his middle.

"When Niall leaves, we can break out the Chardonnay if you want."

"I want," said Harry, his cheeks blossoming into a rosy hue.

Harry and Louis decided to join Niall in the creek. Washing all the dust off felt heavenly. They knew they wouldn't want to make the trip back here again later, so they stripped off their clothes and washed, having left the body wash and shampoo on the big rock where they always set their clothes. They were naked so much of the time here in the mountains, in and around the cabin, that it was utterly ordinary to them now. Niall was taken aback, and really rather astounded, but their casual attitude helped as he battled his consternation. He shook his head to clear it, really hoping it didn't slip their minds that he was present, and cause them to do something he wouldn't be able to _unsee._

Upon returning, they all began to feel the fatigue of the sharp expectation and enormous effort of the capture. They were used to riding fast—it had been the mental exertion that had drained their energy. After a bite to eat, Niall figured he'd better make himself scarce, or risk witnessing something that might really fluster him, so he rode his horse back to the trailer, Harry and Louis riding along with him on their own horses.

"Oh, and Niall," Louis said after Niall had loaded the horse he'd brought and prepared to drive away. "Can you not mention the horse that's gonna be Harry's to the others? I think he wants to surprise 'em when we bring him back to the ranch."

"Sure thing," said Niall, understanding shining in his eyes. "It'll blow 'em away!"

Harry stood by, gratefulness for Louis filling his heart. Louis always seemed to sense just what he was thinking, without him having to utter a word, except for the rare times they had a misunderstanding.

After thanking Niall profusely for the help, Harry and Louis rode back down to the valley and filled an empty old claw foot wash tub that had been behind the cabin with water from the creek, and dragged it to the mustangs behind their horses, spilling some along the way, and also threw a bale of hay to them as well. They couldn't put the tub inside the corral with the horses for fear of the pinto escaping, so they put it on the outside, butted up against the fence so the horses could slide their necks through to drink.

"Sure glad we remembered to do this," Louis said. "I didn't want to come back down here again today. But now they're fed and watered. I would've kicked me own arse tomorrow mornin' when I realized that we'd left 'em hungry and thirsty all night."

Harry nodded, also embarrassed about forgetting to tend to their little herd. "I did tell Niall to bring extra hay next time he comes," he said. "For the wild ones, of course."

"Sure glad you thought of that. Completely slipped me mind. I guess I really had me head up me arse. We would've been collectin' a _lot_ of grass every day. Enough to break our backs. Thanks, Haz."

"Sure, Boo Bear." Harry hugged Louis tightly, and once again, Louis didn't feel like protesting the nickname. In fact, if he were completely honest, he kind of liked the sound of it on Harry's lips.

When they were done with the mustangs, they stood and watched the pinto for a while, Louis knowing that Harry would have a hard time leaving him.

"Let's go home," he said at last. That sounded good. _Home._ The cabin was home-at least for now.

Back on the mountaintop, the afternoon sun wasn't quite as warm as it had been, and Louis called Harry's attention to some clouds on the horizon. "Might rain tonight," he said. "We'll be warm and snuggled in bed together."

The blood pounded in Harry's veins at the thought. Suddenly, he wasn't quite as tired.

"Will the mustangs be alright?" Harry's forehead creased with concern.

"Yeah, that big ole' tree will give 'em enough shelter." Harry had forgotten about the huge live oak tree that was at the far end of the pen. It would do a nice job of protecting the horses from heavy rain.

"Why do you think I chose that particular spot to build the pen? I wanted to be sure they'd have shelter if they needed it."

Yep, Louis thought of everything.

Louis took advantage when Harry was watching the clouds to study his lover. God, he was _beautiful._ He never got tired of gazing at him. Harry had one of those faces that was put together flawlessly, and he was a different kind of gorgeous from every angle. His green eyes were striking, like frost over the ocean, and their intensity could pierce directly into you. Those eyes against his dark brown, almost black, fall of hair, well, he looked like he wasn't made for this stinking world. He was just too beautiful. Louis just sat there and admired him openly.

Harry turned, and caught him staring. "What?" he asked, clueless to Louis' state of mind.

"Nothin.' Just enjoyin' the view."

Harry realized that Louis hadn't been looking at the sky, but at _him._ So he blushed again, helpless to control it. This turned Louis on even more. His heart and his cock swelled at the same time. This was the best of the best. To be so very fond of someone, and to also desire them, _want_ them. If this was what love was all about, Louis could appreciate its appeal.

Sitting on their blanket, Harry cuddled up to him. Louis had never been a cuddler, but he, strangely, didn't mind Harry all over him. He'd never been much of a kisser either, but he loved kissing Harry—wanted to do it all of the time. The sensuality of it was like a drug.

Harry had that wide open look. He was sinuous and awkward by turns, mused Louis. His raw vulnerability had Louis' motor revved. Harry both grounded him, and made him feel feral.

They kissed, and Harry's curious combination of sexy and sweet made Louis shiver. He moved to sit behind Harry, brushing the hair off the back of the younger man's neck to kiss it and whispered, "I want you," in the most lethal, wicked way. To Harry's ears, it was music. And he really could, at times, actually _hear_ music, because he loved music, and he loved how Louis seduced him. It was like a soft, yet unrefined kind of dance they were doing. Spontaneous. Louis wasn't very versed in seduction, but that didn't stop him. Harry was his inspiration.

Harry turned around so he was facing Louis, sitting on the blanket, and they went into their now familiar trance, slightly disoriented in each other's eyes. Blue warred with green. Louis leaned forward inch by inch until Harry was grabbing at his shirt impatiently, pulling him in even closer. Louis chuckled. He kissed Harry again, coming on strong, then easing off. Playing the enchanting game that he was so good at. He had Harry nearly whimpering in no time.

Then Louis drew back slightly and directed a discussion about Harry's horse, and their plans for it. They kissed. Then they discussed breaking the horse, followed by more kissing. Both were squirming, coming unhinged from the suppressed lust that hung all around them, heavy and excessive. Louis was drawing it out, and Harry was eating up the suspense.

Louis stopped now and then to consume Harry with his eyes. Run his hands through that curly hair. The warmth of their skin through their clothing was a small thing, but it inundated them with yearning for more. Just the brush of a thigh, hip or arm was more than enough to stoke a white hot flame. Harry peered at Louis and knew he felt the same, because Louis' neck convulsed as he swallowed hard, and awkwardly adjusted himself in his pants, throwing a sheepish grin Harry's way.

They began to hear thunder, and Louis couldn't help but think about how Harry would soon want to disappear under the covers in bed, even though it was still a little light outside. Getting him into bed would be quite the treat. But not before they got some Chardonnay into them.

The thunder pounded, then rumbled, much closer this time, and Harry got up, stumbling like a colt. It was a trip to watch him. Louis took a certain satisfaction in it. Jagged streaks of lightning appeared, and Louis found Harry perched on the side of the bed, Louis sat down beside him, and Harry burrowed his face into his neck, lighting Louis' blood on fire. He wrapped Louis up like a burrito with a blanket from the bed and his arms.

Harry's hand was under the blanket, caressing Louis' tummy through his shirt, making him tingle. Louis thought Harry was seeking safety from the storm, but then he saw Harry looking up at him through his long, dark lashes.

"Fuckin' flirt," growled Louis. He strongly suspected Harry wasn't any more afraid of the lightning and thunder than he was of the dust storms. Looked like just maybe Harry was using his fear as an excuse to come on to him. He was learning just how to push Louis' buttons, titillate him.

"Let me see if I can locate those mustangs," said Louis a moment later, holding the binoculars up to his eyes as he peered out of the window above the bed. Might as well get it over—then he could concentrate on Harry. It took a couple of minutes, but Louis got the horses into focus.

"Harry, look! There's your horse!" He was thrilled that they could see the mustangs from the cabin window, knowing this would certainly ease Harry's mind about their welfare. He quickly handed the binoculars off to Harry, who gasped and smiled. The mustangs were bunched under the protection of the oak tree, and there was the pinto, pawing at the ground and snorting, sensing the violence of the coming storm. Thunder crashed again after another bolt of lightning, but the horse threw his head defiantly and held his ground. He was a brave one.

Harry took a deep breath, and held it a second as the lightning lit the horse's form, framing it against the gathering darkness. "Look at his heavy bone! He'll stay sound a long time, won't he?" asked Harry, excitement causing him to vibrate with barely subdued energy.

"Oh yeah. You can count on that lad to carry you into his late twenties."

The young stallion had a regal bearing as he sniffed the air, tail set high in anticipation of the storm, and ready to face it head-on. Harry's eyes stayed glued to him for a few minutes before he was able to bring himself back to the moment, and back into Louis' arms.

"What'll you name him?" asked Louis, caressing the nape of Harry's neck.

Harry looked lost in thought. "Just now I thought about how mystic he looked, with those storm clouds overhead, and thunder rollin' in. Almost looked like a phantom horse to me. Mystic Thunder sounds kinda corny, but I'd call him either one or the other—'Mystic' or 'Thunder.'"

"Brilliant names, those. Both of 'em. You'll sort it out." Louis' eyes were looking heavy as he listened to Harry, and Harry saw it. It wasn't a sleepy heavy, but an ardent, lusty heavy. How sexy could a man be, anyway? And Louis was _his._ At least he hoped he was.

At the same time, Louis was thinking about how open minded Harry was, yet how vulnerable. Harry could get hurt so easily. Open minded and vulnerable weren't a good combination. He thought of all the unsavory characters Harry could have gotten entangled with, and, much as Louis hated to think about it, Harry was also gullible to a point. He wasn't stupid, but he tended to offer too much trust, too early. Louis was relieved they were together. Harry would have everyone on the Rocking Horse Ranch behind him, should he ever be in danger, and most especially, himself. Louis would take a bullet for him in a second.

Harry was Louis' fantasy come to life. He was an erotic buffet that Louis had the privilege of enjoying. And he wanted to, _now,_ but first, he needed to follow up on their plans. He got up and located a fresh bottle of Chardonnay by the light of the lantern. Harry watched Louis stroll over to the cupboard, delighting in his bouncing, bad ass step—arousing and amusing Harry as one. Louis also lit a fire and babied it, feeding it extra wood so it would burn for a while before needing to be tended. He was glad he'd had a pile of wood in the cabin in case of rain. He didn't know Harry was admiring and appreciating him as he performed these tasks.

As Louis neared the bed with the bottle of Chardonnay, his eyes in the dark with only the firelight behind them looked paler in color, like the clear, crystal blue of mountain glaciers. Stunning they were, and trained right on Harry.

"Want me to seduce your flirtacious ass?" He asked in a velvet voice that smoothed the words to perfection.

Louis knew just how far he could go when speaking like this to Harry. Something salacious or raunchy might be too much . . . unless they were in the middle of lovemaking. He was going to experiment with that. But right now, something sweet with a tang seemed to have a tangible effect on Harry.

Forgetting the paper cups, Louis rose to fetch them when Harry pulled him back down. Startled, Louis threw a questioning gaze his way. Harry simply took the Chardonnay from him and drank directly from the bottle.

"Ah, a man after me own heart!" Louis laughed, accepting Harry's offering and taking a healthy swig himself. "You're becomin' bolder all the time," he said carelessly and off-handedly so Harry wouldn't feel self-conscious.

They passed the bottle back and forth, still sitting on the side of the bed, fully dressed, assessing each other surreptitiously by way of sly glances and bashful smiles. Why Harry wanted to play this coy, demure game, Louis had no idea, but, somewhat disturbingly, he found he actually liked it. So he returned it in a playful volley. If Harry had been candid and straightforward about it, it would have been exciting enough, but this shy yet teasing side of him was completely engrossing.

"Do you want to talk about . . . us?" asked Harry, catching Louis with his guard fully down.

"I . . . thought we already had?"

"The talk we started about . . . _feelins,_ '" Harry reminded him.

 _Oh God._ The infamous talk about feelings. Louis should have known Harry would not overlook _that._

"Uh, yeah. I remember that," Louis said lamely, floundering about helplessly in his mind for a way out of this subject.

"Well, have you . . . concluded . . . like, what they are? Those feelins' you get?" Harry grinned only slightly. Just slightly enough to not show his dimple, and that killed Louis. He found himself almost holding his breath, waiting for a glimpse of a dimple every time Harry smiled. How pitiful was that?

"They're uh, strong." It was all Louis could come up with in a pinch. He tried to put off the inevitable by fiddling with the bed covers; smoothing them, and then concentrating on the bottle he held. Looking at anything at all so he didn't have to face those piercing green eyes that had no trouble snagging his soul.

"Strong?" Harry left it open for Louis. He wasn't being a bit helpful. He was waiting for Louis to spit it out. And Louis _wanted_ to spit it out. And not just to get Harry in bed, but because he _meant_ it. But it was so early to be saying something as pivotal as that. Harry might not think him sincere. And he'd never been so sincere about anything in his life. He didn't want it brushed off, or made light of; he didn't want it not taken seriously. Because if and when he said those words, he wanted it to mean something to Harry.

"Yeah, real strong feelins.'" There was no way Harry could _make_ him say it, he realized then. He could just keep insisting that he didn't know what those feelings meant.

"I have 'em too, and I just wanted to know if yours are the same as mine." Harry's words were grating on Louis' nerves simply because he wondered what would happen if Harry's feelings weren't the same as his. Like, if Harry up and said something like he had strong feelings of _fondness,_ or something like that. If Louis used the word fond, it would be an evasion, and Louis didn't feel comfortable with it. It would be dodging how he _really_ felt.

"Well, how would we go about findin' out if they're the same or not?" Harry was nothing if not persistent, and Louis grudgingly had to commend him for it. Taking another bracing slug of the wine from the bottle, Louis prayed the liquor would give him the courage he needed. He took a deep breath and launched himself into it, truly jarred at his own dauntlessness.

"I think I may . . . um, be . . . fallin,'" he abruptly chickened out right when the words were set to exit his mouth.

Harry waited. Solid and stalwart, he waited. Louis had to applaud him for his unwavering patience. Harry's face was downcast, his hair falling forward, almost hiding his face. Louis realized he was being careful not to make Louis feel confronted. That, alone, made Louis' heart ache because Harry was such a compassionate soul. And it, in turn, finally gave him enough courage.

"I think I may be fallin' in love with you." Silence pumped into the room. The rain began to fall right on cue. It was a statement from nature. The rain was evidence of the truth, somehow. That was how it felt to Louis. And apparently to Harry too, because he snuggled his face into Louis' neck.

"Lou . . . Lou, I'm fallin' in love with you too." Although they had both voiced it haltingly, it was nevertheless a real presence in the room. Tangible and soft and real. It had been said, out loud, and any further words were dispensable now.

Harry mumbled, "That wasn't as hard as I thought it might be," he half-hiccoughed and half laughed. That's what it sounded like to Louis, but when he sniffed, Louis had his suspicions that Harry might actually be crying, just a little bit.

"Not as hard as either one of us thought it would be." Louis said quietly, making his own little confession. He had a hard lump in his throat that he couldn't seem to swallow down. He didn't know a whole lot about what they'd cast themselves into. All he knew for sure what he felt just as strongly as Harry did.


	56. Chapter 56

"How many more times are you gonna to make me come tonight?" Harry asked later, as they lay on their backs, side by side, sweating and panting.

"Oh, at least three more. Once or twice is never enough."

Louis was considerate enough to give Harry ten minutes before he started again. He knew what he wanted. He wanted Harry's cock almost choking him as Harry thrust deeply into his mouth. He wanted it without anything held back—he wanted it raw and feral. He knew Harry would want it just as much. He always did. Underneath all that apparent innocence, Harry had a hidden, insanely wild side. Louis had seen it a little bit at a time, here and there, shaping into something that happened more and more often. What he keenly desired though, was for Harry to cut loose completely. He trusted Harry with it. He knew there was more that was possible between them. And he wanted to do it all. The thing was, he also had to be sure Harry trusted him enough. He was ninety-nine percent sure, but nudging Harry over the line to thoroughly unbridled passion – well, he had to be sure it wouldn't trip Harry out.

Licking into Harry's slit, the tang of his pre-come on his tongue, Louis realized that even though they'd sucked each other a few times already tonight, that pre-come was the proof that he was breaking through the barrier. It told him all he needed to know. It told him Harry was still horny as hell when Louis approached him sexually. You didn't still leak pre-come after climaxing a few times unless you were really into it.

Earlier, there had been a deafening clap of thunder directly after lightning had lit up the cabin as if it were daylight, and Harry had grabbed the binoculars. He was worried, Louis knew, that the horses could have been struck by the lightning. It was completely dark out there now, and of course he couldn't see a thing. Regardless, Harry had thrown on his jeans that were crumpled in a heap on the floor, and had scampered out the door before Louis had a chance to even ask him what he thought he was doing in the pitch dark, in the middle of a storm.

 _Damn! Always chasing after Harry!_

Of course Louis threw on his own jeans and followed. When Louis caught up with him, Harry looked just about stricken, his expression desperate as he swung around to face Louis.

"The horses! Joaquin and Saber! Mystic Thunder and the others!"

"Harry, chances are they didn't get hit. It does happen—I won't say it doesn't, but it's rare. I'm sure they're fine."

Harry buried his face in Louis' shoulder. "I'm worried." Louis smoothed his hand over Harry's hair, threading his fingers into the thick waves, closing his eyes to enjoy the silkiness.

"I know. But there's nothin' we can do. You'll see in the mornin' that they're fine. I know Joaquin and Saber are under rock ledges or sommat, and the mustangs deal with this on a regular basis. Come on, it's too dark to see anythin' anyway. Let's go back inside."

The rain was beginning to come down harder, and Louis encouraged Harry back into the cabin, nudging him along.

Harry apparently had realized Louis was right, and there was nothing they could do, so, once inside, he had surrendered and let Louis hold him close. It had taken a while for Harry to settle, but Louis watched his face in the weakly flickering firelight, and he saw the precise moment it dawned on the younger man that they might as well enjoy each other instead of stumbling around blindly in the dark out there when it would do no good anyway.

The affection was sweet and undemanding. Louis resolved himself to letting Harry decide if and when they would take it further. It became clear that Harry's ardor hadn't diminished when he resumed his incessant, coquettish flirting. They hadn't done anything sexual yet, aside from earlier, and Louis made certain he didn't bulldoze Harry by being dominating. Most of the time, Harry seemed to require a certain amount of affection before they got into the sex part.

Harry's hand had begun to rub Louis' thigh that was nearest him. It began to creep higher and higher, and Louis raised his eyebrows when their eyes met. Harry knew that the raised-eyebrow thing meant something like, _"Well, well, how about that?"_ Louis returned the gesture and began to stroke the inside of Harry's thigh now, still clad in jeans, and Louis tried to maintain a low profile, hold himself back, and not jump on him right away. It wasn't the easiest thing he'd ever done. Harry's hand continued to inch up until Harry had found his sex and began rubbing circles over the tip until Louis began to leak, desperate to grab his own cock and jerk himself off right then and there.

Harry backed off and laid back on the bed, his hair a dark halo around his head. Shirtless, with his jeans still on, he was an advertisement for sex. Hot, sweaty, sultry sex. The kind of sex that lasts all night, and did he realize it? No, Harry still didn't have any concept of how appealing he was- how he made Louis' blood run unbearably hot, until it burned, how he teased Louis with only a smile or a slight shift of his body that Louis ate up with his eyes, hoping Harry would touch him, kiss him, ease the ache.

Harry held out his arms to Louis, and there was so much sweetness in it that Louis could hardly fucking stand it. Harry had him—in all ways, and there was no way in hell he'd escape it now. How many times had just looking at Harry almost broken him?

Louis eased himself on top of Harry, moving carefully and slowly, aligning their erections inside their jeans, until they were brushing against each other, then rubbing their pelvises, and finally, rutting against each other. It felt so damn good. Harry was all gasps and tiny noises. The noises that made Louis feel like Harry had his life in his hands. And actually he did, because, surely, Harry could kill him with desire. The little things Harry did . . . Louis felt like he'd never get used to any of it. He cherished it all. Harry kissing and nibbling his neck, sucking at it, caressing his skin, leaving an itching hunger everywhere he touched, gazing at Louis, his eyes pleading and unimpeachable.

Harry's hair was a spill of dark ink on the white sheets and Louis had to bury his hands in it, couldn't keep from it, running his fingers to the ends, remembering how it felt against his naked skin.

"Get on your back and take off your clothes," ordered Harry. The quiet demand startled Louis, putting him on high alert. Now, how often did you hear Harry give orders in that low, rumbly voice of his? It sent shocks of desire skipping up and down Louis' spine. Harry, being assertive, again. And Louis wasn't going to put up any kind of struggle. He obeyed instantly.

Harry, in the meantime, removed his clothes as well, then arranged himself on top of Louis, his hair framing Louis' face as Harry kissed him thoroughly. Just a brush of his lips, and Louis was putty. The rest of it was a wet dream. Their lips becoming moister, then wet. Harry licked and bit at Louis' lips, then delved into his mouth, probed with an eager, seeking tongue. Harry was devouring him whole, and Louis was, for maybe the first time in his life, yielding to another person fully. Letting Harry take charge felt so foreign, yet so delicious and so . . . _right._

There was a particular brand of desperation to Harry tonight. Louis wondered idly what it was all about, but he was enjoying the attention too much to ask questions.

"I love your butt," Harry said in a barely-there whisper directed at Louis' ear. Well, okay. Harry seemed to be on a mission, and Louis was really getting curious, and amid all the drugging desire, he wanted to find out what it was.

"It's so plump, firm, and . . .yummy." Evidently Harry had run out of descriptive words for his ass, thought Louis with a smile. Well, on second thought, Harry was rather fond of the word yummy, so he'd let him slide this time, and not laugh about it.

"I wanna taste you . . . all over." Louis had no argument for that. None at all. Next thing he knew, Harry was lifting his legs nearly up to his chin, and then spreading them wide. Louis didn't resist—he let his imagination rule, even though he came up with no ideas of what Harry might be up to. One thing remained static though-nothing would shake his trust in Harry, now or ever. So he just went along with it, his eyes searching Harry's, looking for clues. All he saw was how dark, mossy green they were, how single-minded he looked.

With Louis' legs spread wide open, Harry lowered his head, his hands spreading Louis' butt cheeks. _Now_ Louis tensed up a bit. Harry's actions along with the air of desperation in the younger man made Louis take notice. Not unlike Louis' prick, which was definitely _standing up_ and taking notice.

As Harry's head lowered even more, Louis had to fight the urge to ask what he was doing. Then, the sensation of Harry's mouth between his cheeks caused Louis' breath to catch in his throat, and, rather aghast, he thought faintly about protesting, but the wetness of Harry's lips down there stopped him cold. Or rather, _HOT._ He'd never felt anything like this before, and he changed his mind about objecting in a split second. It was incredible.

Lips were replaced by tongue, and Harry licked at him with long, lazy strokes. Louis wasn't sure what he was supposed to do, so he just laid there, frozen, and a little bit stunned. Harry kept licking, making those lusty, satisfied noises he was so good at.

"Relax, love," Harry pulled away just long enough to say a few words. "Relax so I can better get at you. Let me in."

 _Holy shit!_

Louis was so turned on that he could feel himself shaking, trembling. He made a conscious effort though, to relax where Harry needed him to relax, although it took him a while to get past the natural urge to tense up. But Harry was patient and forbearing, accommodating, gradually licking him open, beyond the tension, slowly, sensually and sweetly. When he did, the electric sensations knifed through Louis, never having experienced this before. It was past incredible now. It was exquisite. Glorious tingles seized him, snaking around his backbone, his balls, _everywhere._ Harry licked into him, and before long, his tongue was actually inside.

Louis half writhed and half squirmed, feeling like if Harry kept this up, he was going to blow, even without laying a finger on his cock.

"Oh! _Oh my God,"_ groaned Louis, loving the feel of it, and hearing Harry's ragged breathing just egged him on. Harry's mouth and tongue coaxed, lapped at him, sucked, and reduced him to a hot mess, hanging on the precipice of a massive climax.

"What are you doin?'" Louis asked in a tremulous voice, knowing vaguely how lame that sounded, but feeling bashful, like he should say or do something to cover up his embarrassment and the overwhelming lust that was threatening to take him over.

"What does it feel like?" said Harry, just a little on the cheeky side, pausing only briefly, and then returning to continue fiercely, so raw and intense that it was almost unbearable, his head buried between Louis' legs. Nonplussed, Louis surrendered and gave himself over to the feeling. Then Harry did something Louis would never have expected. He flipped his tongue up, and it must have hit Louis' prostate, causing him to have an instant, explosive orgasm. It floored him because it hit so suddenly.

Harry reached up and grabbed Louis' erection as Louis' hole contracted around his tongue, loosening and tightening by turns. Louis felt like a volcano. He just couldn't stop coming. It was long, drawn out, endless and intoxicating. It left him gasping, and while still in the midst of his climax, Harry's tongue continued to work, and his hand still pumped on his cock. Stroking from root to tip, and back again. Harry's hand was slick with Louis' come, the combination of his sloppy wet mouth and slippery hand making Louis' head roll back on the pillow, wondering how he would survive this.

Out of breath, and helplessly out of words, Louis at long last put his legs back down, hauling Harry up his body to cuddle him. He really couldn't express himself properly at the moment. He was still flying high, and not having had that kind of complete sensual fulfillment before left him boneless. Fuck, if he'd had it a million times before, he'd still be boneless.

Finally, after at least five minutes of snuggling close, Louis' voice cut through the night.

"Good God, Harold. Where the fuck did you learn that?" There was a pinprick of jealousy, but not much more. He knew Harry was honest, and wouldn't lie to him about it.

"I didn't learn . . . I just _heard_."

"But where did you hear it?"

"In the bunkhouse."

Louis' desire was too quenched to express surprise—he was bone tired. "Is sex all the guys talk about in the bunkhouse?"

"Pretty much. I'd say about seventy-five percent of the time. I heard 'em say stuff about it, and I was . . . curious."

"So you decided to try it with me ?"

"Yeah, sort of. If you don't like it—"

"No, no! I like it alright. I _love_ it. I was just wonderin'. Wouldn't you be?"

Harry thought about it for a few seconds. "Yeah. I get what you mean. I'd be curious too."

"You know, Styles, you're full of surprises."

"Thanks, man. I want you to find me, like, exciting."

"Oh, you don't have to worry about that! You're a laugh a minute, fun to be with, sweet, and sexy as hell in and out of bed. You're the best kind of excitement. The best kind of distraction too; even when Niall's around." He shrugged. "Can't help meself, really. I don't even seem to care who sees." Louis really did astonish himself at his own actions.

"I guess that's a compliment?" Harry was wearing his coy look again, those eyelashes fluttering.

"You better fuckin' believe it!"

A little later, Harry shuddered at the drag of Louis' mouth on his cock as the rancher pulled off just long enough to prolong the sweetest torment, making Harry weak, trembling, longing to beg for more. The more noise Harry made, the more moans he emitted, the more it spurred Louis on, the wet sound of Louis' mouth on his cock was filthy hot. Both of them were building toward orgasm again. Louis' hand was under Harry's balls, caressing and massaging, tugging. Harry froze, crying out, his come filling Louis' mouth, squirting with almost a violence as he grunted and shivered. At the same time, Louis stroked his own cock. Only five strokes of his hand, and he was also coming within seconds of Harry's release.

They held each other, lips sucking at necks, and tongues scraping sweaty flesh, relishing the salty taste.

"I know you wanna ask if that's it for the night. I can't, in all good conscience, say I won't wake you up again in the middle of the night. But for now, you're safe."

"You wouldn't have any trouble talkin' me into it, no matter what the time," admitted Harry.

Louis steeled himself with a concentrated effort. He wanted to talk to Harry about something, but he wasn't sure how to approach it. He'd been putting it off for the last couple of days, playing with words and scenarios in his head—rejecting each one for one reason or another. This was a potentially sticky subject, and had to be handled with delicacy. He'd come to the conclusion that it was best to be a straight shooter, to speak from his heart, being careful not to let Harry think sex was overly influencing him. Their closeness in this relationship was paramount, but tonight, now that Harry had introduced him to a truly lovely new feature in their sex life helped to assure him that Harry might be receptive. It bolstered his courage to venture forth with it.

"Um, Haz, we're, um, fantastic together—I think you'll agree with that. But . . . there's an . . . aspect of our relationship though, that hasn't been . . . explored," he began.

Harry surveyed Louis as the fire threw alternating light and shadow against the man's handsome tanned face, his corded arms, his flat belly and thick, muscular thighs, and he marveled at how nearly matchless his lover was. He was facing Louis, and he saw and felt the hesitation, the trepidation as if it were his own. Handsome aside, Louis was wrestling from within himself. Harry could almost see his brain dissecting something, and attempting to form words, reaching for the right balance, and there was also despair there that it didn't seem to be coming together.

Louis began to talk several times, but aborted it each time, attempting then to start over only to end up with the same results—silence and a look of pure frustration and discouragement. Harry decided to try to help him out.

"Would this, maybe, be about . . . fucking?"

Louis jerked his head toward Harry. He'd been staring at the ceiling, striving for just the right wording, so he wouldn't offend or frighten Harry, and then Harry goes and says what he'd been trying to say, so bluntly, so candidly, that all Louis could do was take a deep breath, swallow hard, and then laugh. What else could he do but laugh?

He laughed hard, trying to get air into his lungs, snorting, and his eyes watering. No one, but no one on earth could do this to him but Harry. His Haz. His wonderful, sweet, playful, sincere Haz. Meanwhile, Harry was staring at him like he thought he'd gone off the deep end. Had become a maniac. This made Louis laugh even harder. The words were enough to cause hysteria, but the look on Harry's face was the clincher. He needed to get ahold of himself and ease Harry's mind. Reassure him that everything was alright, and he hadn't, in fact, lost his mind.

"Harry, that was . . . so funny. Here I was—" Louis had to catch his breath to continue talking. "Here I was, tryin' to find just the right words so I wouldn't offend you, and you . . . you come right out with it like nobody's business!"

Harry, still confused, asked, "So that _was_ what you wanted to bring up?"

"Yeah, yeah it was, you bloody wanker!" Louis mocked punched him in the arm. "I was afraid you'd be embarrassed, and mortified, and . . . and, tell me I was outta me mind or sommat!"

Now Harry kind of understood why Louis thought it so amusing. He _had_ been rather frank. "I guess I was a little _uncouth,_ yeah?" he asked.

Louis smiled. "No. Not really. I was just bein' over-cautious, and then you came out with that, and I just . . . wasn't expectin' it at all!"

All that stuff aside, Harry assumed Louis wanted to discuss it or he wouldn't have brought it up.

"Well, do you want to? Fuck, that is."

Louis tried to squelch it, but couldn't help but release a fresh round of laughter, even more robust this time, defeating Harry's attempts to talk about it. The younger man was rapidly becoming baffled and disheartened.

"Well, if all you wanna do is laugh about it, then I guess it's not that meaningful to you." Hurt dripped from Harry's words.

Louis had been so amused that he hadn't seen how discouraged and upset Harry was becoming. How hurt he looked. It was right about then that Harry yanked a sleeping bag out of a cupboard . . .


	57. Chapter 57

Louis watched on solemnly as Harry methodically unfolded the sleeping bag, unzipped it, and climbed inside, turning his back to Louis. There was no show of temper, which made Louis feel even worse. Harry obviously wasn't angry; he was hurt.

 _He deserved it_. Louis was seldom so unprotesting and tractable, always striving to make his stance be known, leaving no doubt as to his position. But what he'd done tonight had been unforgiveable. It had been degrading toward Harry. He was wrong. He'd made Harry look foolish. He'd laughed when Harry had wanted to discuss something that was critical and significant. Louis sighed, feeling as if he didn't deserve Harry.

Louis eyed Harry's unmoving back, wondering what he could say to give Harry his pride back. He loved Harry. Of course he did! He'd told him as much tonight, but acting the way he had might have caused Harry to question it. It wouldn't surprise him. He'd acted like a mad man, and he should have paid enough attention to see how he'd made Harry feel when he had laughed at him. He normally watched Harry closely, and saw every expression that crossed his face. But tonight he'd been doubled over in mirth, blind to Harry's wrenched heart.

Should he approach Harry? Louis glared at the forgotten bottle of Chardonnay sitting on the dresser, not even a third empty, and felt like chugging the rest of it so he could _maybe_ fall asleep. He doubted even that would do it though. Appearing foolish was one of his greatest fears. Like his father, he held on stubbornly to his dignity and ego. If he tried to talk to Harry and explain his reaction, Harry would more than likely refuse to speak to him. He could be forceful, sure. Yank Harry around to face him, and be the way he'd been so many times with others—not take no for an answer. Make Harry listen to him. But Harry deserved so much more than that.

He should be going to Harry and pouring on profuse "I'm sorries" and explanations, but instead he flung the thought away, because he'd be risking being turned away. His damn pride! He knew that was his hang-up, knew it so well, but yet opening himself up to a rebuff was terrifying.

Harry was sniffing softly—so softly he probably thought Louis didn't hear it. It dipped Louis' heart in ice water—a heart that protested because it had been learning to let warmth in. He didn't like the feeling. He never wanted to be cold again because Harry had taught him the warmth of affection and _love._ Louis needed to touch the lad, and he physically could not forgo giving in to his impulse. In the end, Louis decided to just lay on the floor with him, spooning him from behind, but without being overbearing. Just simply being there, and letting Harry feel his gentle hand resting on his waist.

Louis didn't sleep well, and neither did Harry. But they didn't change positions. They endured it silently, still as stone, neither one knowing the other was awake. Somewhere near dawn Louis must have dozed off, because when he woke, it was light outside, and Harry was no longer beside him. He jumped up, heart thumping, and looked out, sighing in relief to see Harry sitting and drinking coffee by himself, looking out over the valley. It surprised Louis that the binoculars were still sitting on the dresser. He'd thought for sure Harry would be watching his mustang.

Louis threw on some sweats, since it was chilly, autumn having officially made its appearance, and insisted that his feet carry him out to Harry, although they didn't want to move, as though they were deeply seated in sucking mud.

What followed wasn't pretty, and he knew it wouldn't be, but Louis knew he had to man up and talk to Harry about this. If he didn't, they'd be doomed to a relationship where communication suffered, and that could mean a very real threat of things ending. Louis was not about to let Harry get away. They'd come so far, and he so adored Harry. He should have done something about it last night, because now it might have snowballed in Harry's head to massive proportions.

"Mornin.'" Louis sat down, holding his own cup of coffee that he'd warmed with what was left of the dying fire, and waited for the barrage of accusations. They didn't come. Instead, Harry returned his greeting rather sluggishly, and went on sipping his coffee, not even turning his head to glance at Louis.

Well, this was going to be quite the challenge. How could he convince Harry of his sincere regret at what had happened last night if Harry wouldn't even look at him? The words wouldn't penetrate, and might not mean a thing to Harry if he couldn't see the pain in Louis' eyes, _feel_ the regrets and misgivings that Louis was full of. Yeah, he needed Harry's full attention to have a ghost of a chance at this. Louis was just going to have to swallow his pride and beg a little. It wouldn't kill him.

"Baby," he began uncertainly. "I didn't mean it in the way you took it." Well, it was a start, however shaky and unstable it was. Harry didn't respond. He remained motionless, and his expression gave nothing away. He seemed numb to Louis, and that was majorly concerning.

 _Appeal to his compassionate side._

Louis reached out and laid a tentative hand lightly on Harry's slightly hunched back. "I take you seriously," he said, hoping Harry would believe him. Harry wheeled around, spinning on his butt so he was facing Louis.

"You don't take our _relationship_ seriously at all . . . if that's even what it is!"

Louis recoiled just a bit, jarred by the almost spiteful look on Harry's face. Harry's winter green glower was nevertheless startling in its clarity. So beautiful, yet almost scary. Louis really hadn't thought Harry was capable of such a dirty look. Harry's breath was uneven and jagged, and he looked like he'd just lost his best friend. Well, he _hadn't!_ Louis considered Harry his best friend as well as his lover, and he'd do anything to get his message across. Luckily, Harry's seemingly disdainful look spurred Louis to find the moxie to confront him.

"Look, just because I laughed doesn't mean I don't take you or our relationship seriously. I was laughin' because I'd been tryin' to finesse me words to bring it up . . . the subject, that is; tryin' to be considerate, and you said it so openly that it just . . . I don't know, tickled me funny bone."

This was apparently not the wisest choice of words. Harry's eyes now flashed outrage. "I wanted to discuss it like _adults,_ not be gigglin' about it like two school lads!" he retorted.

"But that's not the way it was meant, not at all . . . " Louis couldn't find the words to explain that the laughter had been harmless, and didn't mean he was being frivolous or uncaring, or poking fun at Harry.

"I thought . . . I thought you . . . loved me," Harry said, his bottom lip trembling. It was all Louis could do to detain himself from pulling him close and kissing those pouty lips. To try to wipe away this misery, the crushed look in Harry's wide eyes.

"But I _do_ . . . I told you that last night!"

Harry didn't have a response to this. He seemed to be contemplating all of this. Trying to figure out how Louis could be so cruel, yet still love him, Louis assumed.

"Why would you laugh?" the bare honesty in Harry's eyes just about decimated Louis. He wrestled with words that Harry might understand. There was nothing he could think of though, that would convince Harry of his good intentions. Of his sincerity. So he went with his gut, and was completely truthful.

"I thought, and I still think, that you're cute."

Harry, ready to go on a tirade again, hesitated, looked confused, as if he didn't know how he should react to that.

" _What?"_

"Yes, I thought you were cute. How you worded it, I mean. The way you said it without hesitation. You do things like that regularly, and I'm charmed by you. I laughed because it was cute, but in no way did that dilute my sincerity, or how I feel about you."

This process of convincing Harry was exhausting. Louis was trying not to get despondent. Harry sat there, still sullen, and Louis was suspecting he was never going to get through to him when Harry moved forward and slipped his arms around his waist.

"Okay, I see. I think I see what happened. I got too . . . sensitive," admitted Harry with a shy smile.

Louis breathed a little more easily. "Yes . . . you're hypersensitive sometimes. But that's one of the things I . . . love about you." Louis still had a little trouble articulating the word because it was so new and foreign to him up until now. He'd not used the word love in such a long time that it was obstinate about forming on his tongue. But Harry seemed to be getting it.

"I love a lotta things about you too," Harry shyly volunteered. "The way you walk, all cheeky-like, Sassmasta style, and how you touch me with, like, tenderness, and the way you . . . kiss me." Harry's cheeks had blushed a firey red.

Louis took the liberty of tipping forward to kiss Harry's crimson cheek. "You're, without question, the most kissable person I know," he murmured.

Harry returned his gesture by brushing his lips, a bit bashfully, against Louis' own.

"I'm sorry," said Louis soberly. "The last thing I wanted was to hurt you."

"No, _I'm_ sorry," countered Harry. "I should've realized that it _did_ sound kinda funny, now that I'm back in a reasonable state of mind."

Louis sat back, balancing himself on his hands. "From now on, give me a chance, okay Haz? Wait a minute to think about it before accusing me of not loving you, or not taking you seriously. I fumble with me words . . . and actions, sometimes."

Harry smiled, and gifted Louis with two delectable dimples. "Okay. By the way, I loved how you held me last night."

"I wasn't sure if you even noticed," admitted Louis.

They sat for a while, kissing, and laughing at themselves, then Harry went into the cabin and brought out the binoculars.

"Better yet, let's go see the mustangs in person," suggested Louis. Harry had been waiting for the offer, and he jumped on it. They walked down to the valley, since their horses were still eating their hay breakfast that Harry had served them, and they didn't want to disturb them. They held hands, fingers intertwined, Louis having initiated it. It felt so _right,_ and Harry was elated.

"The water level's gettin' a bit low, so we'll have to haul more over when our horses are done eatin.' And look how much hay they ate last night." Louis indicated the bale of hay that was two-thirds gone. They'd brought a few bales over here yesterday, and Louis was glad for that as they cut the strings and heaved a second bale over the fence in thick sections. They really did need a round bale, since they were so much bigger than the one hundred pound square bales. But for now, this would do. They wouldn't be holding on to all the mustangs for much longer anyhow. Now they just had to decide what they could fill with water from the creek to drag over to top off the mustang's tub. They didn't have any large containers, and a small one obviously wouldn't do the job. These horses easily drank ten gallons each per day.

Harry stared longingly at Mystic Thunder, and Louis knew the younger man was eager to start working with him. There were literally stars in his eyes, and Louis imagined all the things Harry dreamed of teaching the horse once it was tamed down. That undertaking would be more difficult than Harry realized. Until you'd worked with a completely unhandled one, you had no idea how powerful and willful they were, because they feared man.

"We can start him on some basic lessons as soon as we let the rest of the herd go," he said. "But he's completely wild, and is terrified of us. You'll have to be sure you don't ever get close enough to get kicked, struck or run over. We can start movin' him around the pen, controllin' where he goes, and at the speed we want, until he learns that we are the ones in charge. It'll be a slow process."

Harry listened intently, nodding his head, and Louis knew he would follow directions to the letter. Harry was just that way. He took things to heart and tucked them away for safekeeping. He really paid attention, never assuming he knew it all. Louis loved that he was such an avid student, and one that retained information, and applied it.

"And after we figure out the water situation, we'll have to talk about the discussion we started yesterday. This time, _seriously,_ I promise." Louis wanted that made clear to Harry immediately so Harry wouldn't have time to assume anything—like maybe Louis was avoiding the conversation. That would open up a whole new can of worms.

"Okay," Harry smiled, and Louis knew the worst of it was over.

"I think we're gonna have to drag the bathtub over to the creek again," Louis said reluctantly. "It's a pain in the ass, I know. But it can't be avoided. We don't have anythin' else that'll work."

"Yeah, I agree." Harry knew what was and wasn't behind the cabin, and there were no big containers that would be watertight. Or big containers, period. So about an hour later, they hooked Joaquin up to the tub, and dragged it to the creek, filled it up, and dragged it back to the mustangs. It was a major hassle, as they had to fill it with their hats, and that took _forever,_ not to mention the fact that some water spilled out every time they hit a rock or hole, but at least the horses would have enough water if they did it daily. The storm last night hadn't dumped enough rain into the tub to make much of a difference.

Louis reached over and grabbed Harry's hair and tugged gently once they had pushed and yanked the bathtub back into position. He hadn't done it in a while, and loved every opportunity to touch Harry's hair. He craved the feel of it. The gentle tug had an effect on Harry that Louis was pleased by. He closed his eyes, always a sign Harry was squeezing as much enjoyment out of something as he could—usually Louis' touch.

"Hedgehog, we need to go back to the cabin, like . . . now."

Louis smiled at the fact that Harry took pleasure in using his nicknames. He studied his lover. "Right now?" Louis swore his pants must have been bulging in front in a ludicrous way, his mind working quickly, and getting his hopes up. His cock was so quick on the draw when it came to Harry.

"Yeah."

"Why?" asked Louis, naturally curious, and hoping his hunch was right.

"We didn't, um, like, make love last night, and I'm . . . "

"Hot to trot?"

Harry nodded. "Horny."

Louis laughed, slipping his arm around Harry's waist, and they climbed back up the hill, equally eager.

Louis went directly into the cabin, and when Harry took a little too long outside, he stepped out of the door, his chest bare, wearing only jeans, and looking a tad on the impatient side. Barefoot again, just like that time they'd had the first storm here. He paused in the doorway, gripping near the top of the door frame with one hand and smoking a cigarette with the other. One hip was cocked almost arrogantly, then he lifted the other foot and bent his leg to rest his foot on the wall, his blue eyes weighed down with heavy lids, and Harry detected a sprinkling of sulkiness there too. He looked like a damn album cover, thought Harry. Sinfully sexy.

"No more bullshit, Styles. Get in here." Louis had a cryptic, dangerously playful air about him.

"What bullshit?" Harry cocked his head.

"Takin' your sweet time."

"I'm not. I was just tryin' to decide whether we should send this blanket back to Nora to wash, or try to wash it ourselves."

Louis glanced down at the blanket that not only had sweat and come stains on it, but had also been left out in the rain. It had been on the grass instead of dirt, but was still far from pristine.

"She'll know about us soon enough," quipped Louis. "Might as well break her in now."

Harry laughed, not blushing for once. They were making progress. Louis loved the way Harry moved slowly in his quest to be carefree and comfortable enough to discuss any subject with him. But it was also sometimes impeding. Louis longed for complete ease and contentment in the thick of conversation, no matter what was hashed out between them. But he also knew Harry had to go at his own pace. He'd never want Harry ill at ease talking to him about anything.

Harry came to him then, stripping off his own shirt. Louis hugged him, the hair on Louis' chest very stimulating to his sensitive nipples, which hardened in seconds. Louis reached between them, rubbing his thumbs over them, obviously having felt the tight nubs against his chest. He sucked lightly at Harry's neck, right where it was most sensitive, and Harry broke out in instantaneous goose bumps.

Louis held him back at arm's length, scrutinizing him, and as a result, those eyes of radiant emerald drilled into him. He loved how Harry didn't look away. It was the pure honesty that made Louis' knees so weak.

"Brilliant. I try to see into your soul, and you probe _mine_. That'll do, mate."

They went inside, Louis lowered both of them to the bed, then rolled onto his back. "I fancy we should be talkin' and clearin' up this conflict we had last night." He wanted to be one hundred percent sure Harry knew where he was coming from.

"That's okay. I understand now. Truly I do," Harry added for emphasis. "I know now that you weren't laughin' _at_ me, but you were tryin' to laugh _with_ me."

That, right there, convinced Louis that Harry truly got him. He nodded ardently.

They held each other tenderly, turning onto their sides, running their hands up and down each other's backs. Harry's back arched like a cat, and Louis' heart clenched. "You say the damndest things, Haz. I never know what or when sommat might pop out of your mouth."

"Well, from now on, I'll be a lot more careful before I just assume sommat," Harry replied.

One thing led to another, and soon they were clutching each other in a silent kind of desperation, as if they hadn't made love in weeks, instead of only one night. Louis was lost in the sensual sucking massage of Harry's mouth on his dick. It was so damn good, and it felt as if Louis' heart was being caressed like his cock. The love just pulsed through him. He'd had blow jobs before, of course. Plenty of them. From women who knew what they were doing. But, even though Harry was still perfecting his technique and some fumbling lingered, it still felt leagues better than any female had been able to produce, or even come close to. Just knowing it was _Harry's_ mouth caused Louis' cock to twitch, and made him try like hell to stall his orgasm so he could savor it for a little longer. Louis turned around so they could sixty-nine.

They were both so needy after abstaining last night, and Louis knew that Harry wanted to talk about _fucking_ eventually, but apparently not today. And definitely not right now. They would discuss it in due time, and he was sure they would come to some kind of agreement about it. He couldn't imagine fucking another man, or having one fuck him, but then, he also couldn't believe he was actually sucking another man's dick right now, as his own was being sucked . But then, this wasn't just a man, this was _Harry._ There wasn't another man in this world that he wanted.

It felt so fantastic, so out of this world. To be aroused out of his mind; getting to suck Harry as Harry sucked him. There couldn't be any greater feeling in the world. It was another dimension of passion. The astonishingly erotic feel of Harry's wet mouth tantalizing and stimulating his dick, and, at the same time, being able to suck Harry. It was more than double the pleasure. It was pure sexual ecstasy.

"Easy!" Louis cried, momentarily removing his mouth to say it. Harry was going at it like a hungry beast, his tongue thoroughly licking at the same time, and Louis was in immediate danger of coming. Harry was getting frightfully good at this. After a very quick break so Louis could regain control, that, incidentally didn't last very long, they began to fuck each other's mouths, hips thrusting forward as they lay on their sides. They were getting good at it now, actually. Harry was no longer afraid to pump into Louis' mouth because it was highly encouraged by Louis. They got a little rough now and then, not able to hold back when the drive really kicked in, but there was mutual trust that only built the excitement.

When they both came, Louis with loud groans and Harry with a roar, cocks spurting copiously down each other's throat, they collapsed in a sloppy heap, arms and legs splayed every which way. The heady, familiar taste soaked into their tongues and formed a memory in their minds.

"Holy shit, that was pedal to the metal!" Louis gasped out when he could draw in enough air to articulate a sentence. He looked over at Harry, whose damp curls were swept over his forehead, that sexy, messy long hair making Louis' cock twitch even though it was full gratified—for now-and when he got up to get them a drink of water, he felt Harry's eyes roving over him.

"Hurry back to bed, Superman, I'm lonely," Harry sounded like a petulant child, and Louis smiled, hardly able to wait.


	58. Chapter 58

"Okay, _now_ we talk about it," Louis announced as he and Harry drank from their paper cups of water, still naked and propped up against the pillows and headboard, side by side, thighs touching.

Harry raised his eyebrows, borrowing one of Louis' favorite expressions. So much could be conveyed with just that little gesture.

"About fucking, you mean?"

"Yes, Hazza. About fucking." Louis was careful to not giggle or otherwise indicate any amusement. That was one unpleasant obstacle he didn't want to come up against anytime soon.

"Okay, well, you brought it up initially. Like, how do you feel about it?" Harry looked so comfortable and gratified, having been milked several times today. Louis' eyes were pinned to him so intensely that he had to make a real effort to break the stare.

"I have no qualms about it meself," Louis said carefully, putting out feelers to try to sense Harry's state of mind about the subject at hand. He wasn't sure of Harry's stance on the subject.

"I don't either."

Louis nodded his approval. "We're in the same ballpark then," he said, pleased.

Harry shifted, sitting Indian style. "But, like, um . . . who . . . " Harry was clearly struggling.

"Will top?" prompted Louis in an unusually soft voice.

"Yeah . . . how do guys decide . . . that?"

"I don't know. Remember, I know nothin' about this. But from what little I've heard . . . some guys prefer to top, and some to bottom. What is your preference?" His eyes met Harry's with a soft compassion and gentleness. His hand rested on the top of Harry's hand. This wasn't exactly easy sailing for either of them. It was alien territory, and, on some levels, almost frightening.

"I . . . I don't know," admitted Harry. "Never really thought about it before, to be truthful."

"Same here. Mostly I thought about just kissin' you, huggin' you, and, you know, us suckin' each other. But . . . I was thinkin' the other day, before I brought the subject up, that . . . um, I feel kinda . . . dominant." His eyes were fastened on Harry, hoping Harry wouldn't take that the wrong way. He didn't mean dominant as in controlling or mean.

But Harry was nodding his head with an earnest look. "I think I know what you mean," the curly headed man blurted out, and his look was one of eagerness, openness.

"You do?" Louis was afraid to venture much more, because he wasn't absolutely sure Harry wouldn't take something the wrong way.

"Yeah. I feel the same way. Like you're more dominant, and I'm . . . more submissive."

This was going much better, flowing a lot more freely than Louis had anticipated.

"Okay, gotcha," Louis waited to see if Harry wanted to say more.

"What do you think about what I just said?" asked Harry, all innocent anticipation.

"I agree with you one hundred percent," Louis uttered, so relieved and caught up in his thoughts that he had forgotten to speak. They were apparently seeing things the same way, so far.

"So this means . . . you wanna top?" asked Harry.

Louis smiled, cupping Harry's opposite cheek in his hand after setting down his empty cup.

"If you'd like that, I would too. But . . . if _you_ ever want to top, I think that's sick too."

Harry gave him a goofy grin. He was so pleased that their interaction was mutual.

"Perfect!" exclaimed Harry, only to get painfully bashful again, consequently burrowing his face in Louis' shoulder. "I think that would be good. You're dominant, and I can be that way now and then too, if we feel like it."

"Okay then, it's settled. That was so smooth compared to how I thought it might go," acknowledged Louis. "I mean, I didn't think we'd fight about it or anythin.' I just didn't know if we'd get our thoughts across to each other . . . successfully. Looks like we did, and we both have the same point of view."

"You've always been the one in charge," Harry reminded him. "I don't just mean that you're me boss either. It's just the way you are. And me, well, I've always been a lot milder tempered and passive, I guess you could say. I _like_ that you take charge. It turns me on."

"And I like the way you're sweet and soft toward me," Louis could not have been more delighted with this conversation. And you're serious about bein' in love with me?" Even though sexual compatibility was important, Louis considered this especially crucial. They had to be in love, and it had to be reciprocal or there was no use in continuing, because he wouldn't be able to bear the pain.

"Of course, yes! I wasn't takin' it lightly when I said I was fallin' in love with you. I'm afraid I'm hopelessly committed."

"Me too. And the reason I asked is, when we go back to the ranch, I hope you know I'll be wantin' you to stay in the house with me."

Harry hesitated, looking unsettled.

"What's wrong Haz?" Louis suddenly realized this would be a major thing for Harry. Well, of course it would be. The dynamics would be completely different.

"But . . . I've always stayed in the bunkhouse. What would the others think?"

"They'd know we're a couple. Three of the hands already know anyway!"

"Oh, I know that. I was just wonderin' if maybe, like, they might resent me for gettin' to stay in the house?" asked Harry.

"I understand your concern. But it's the same as if you were a woman," explained Louis.

"If I had a girlfriend I was serious about, and exclusive with, they would expect her to stay in the house with me."

"But, this isn't the same thing. Not only am I a guy, but I'm a ranch hand, same as they are. I shouldn't be treated special."

"Doesn't apply to you anymore. Bein' just a ranch hand, that is. If you're me partner, it's natural you wouldn't be stayin' in the bunkhouse anymore. Bein' gay doesn't matter either. Remember, I know these men. Johnny, Niall and Nick have been with me for years. Leo is new, of course, but I'm sure he'll get used to it. They'll respect it, even if they don't agree with it. They won't resent you, Haz. Johnny's been wantin' me to settle down with someone for a long time now. He'll be happy for us, and I can already tell Niall is. I'm sure the others will be too."

"I'll have to trust you on that," Harry said, still looking unsure, like he was teetering internally. "I don't want them wonderin' if I think I'm better than them."

"It'll be _my_ decision to have you in the house. They all respect me, and won't hold it against us. Believe me on that, Haz. But even if they didn't approve, they'll have to look at it like I explained—you'll be me romantic partner, like a serious girlfriend, and no one would expect a girlfriend to sleep in the bunkhouse."

Harry laughed. "But of course not—she'd be _female,_ and no female would belong in the bunkhouse."

"You don't get me point. You'll be me significant other, and it doesn't matter what your gender is. You would naturally share the house, and me bedroom."

Harry still didn't look entirely convinced, but he accepted it for now. He had faith in Louis and knew Louis wouldn't intentionally mislead him. Louis threw a couple of candy bars on the bed after leaning over and reaching into the pocket of his jeans that had been thrown onto the floor in their haste to be naked together.

"And before you ask, no, I still don't usually keep candy bars on me person. I just had those two ready for you."

Harry smiled, unwrapping one and offering the other to Louis. Louis refused, of course, claiming his stash was almost exclusively for Harry, and he didn't share Harry's passion for chocolate, although he did enjoy indulging every once in a while.

"Do you realize, Harold, that we've been here for ten days?"

"What?" Harry's eyes were disbelieving.

"It's true. But remember how I said I wouldn't mind spendin' a bit of extra time here with you? There's no rush to get back." Louis' blue eyes had turned smoky.

Harry looked relieved and dreamy himself as he sighed with a smile. "How long?"

Louis chuckled. "Greedy, aren't you? I'd say a week or two longer than the original two week period."

"So . . . in four days it'll be two weeks, and then two weeks beyond that? That would make it two and a half more weeks here!" Louis was pleased that Harry, on the spot, mentally extended it to two weeks instead of the "week or two more" that he had originally stated. It might be a technicality, but Louis wasn't going to argue about it. Harry had snatched up the extra time very cleverly, and Louis approved. They would need that much time anyway—to tame and break Harry's mustang, and also to be fully prepared and confident enough in their love to face the other ranch hands when they went back to the ranch. Louis wasn't worried about it, but Harry seemed to still be a little apprehensive. And he couldn't blame him for that. It had to be a daunting thought to go back, and suddenly be Louis' live-in lover. Awkward would be downplaying it.

Louis planned to let the other mustangs go tomorrow, when Niall came. Niall could keep Mystic Thunder in the pen while Harry and Louis let the others out. Louis wasn't quite sure how it would work, and it niggled at him. The pinto could so easily slip past, or worse, bull his way past when the other horses ran out of the gate. That meant possible injury to someone. He'd be desperate to follow them, and the repercussions could be more than just losing the horse. Louis knew they'd have to figure out a way to block the pinto effectively. He wouldn't be able to stand the look of utter heartbreak on Harry's face should his horse get away, and he'd not forgive himself if someone got hurt.

Louis and Harry got a surprise when Johnny showed up instead of Niall the next morning. Johnny's self-satisfied flicker of a grin was a reminder to Louis that the cowboy was glad he'd forced/tricked Harry into coming here to the mountain. His plan had worked, and Louis, while disgruntled to begin with, was now eternally grateful. If not for Johnny, he and Harry might never have gotten together. This was a life-changing thing, thanks to Johnny.

"Niall will be along in a little bit. I brought the clothes and food. Niall was fixin' to bring a horse, and is runnin' a little late. I didn't want you to worry." Johnny didn't explain why Niall was bringing a horse, and Louis wasn't sure if Johnny himself even knew. "You didn't have to make the trip," Louis felt bad that both of them had to drive here when only one was necessary to bring the food and clothes. Johnny was busy sizing them both up, and undoubtedly seeing the half-conscious, dazed look people in love wore, he pulled Louis off to the side. Johnny had seen too much of the world not to recognize this wasn't just a fling.

"You guys official now?" he went straight to the point with Louis, never one to pussy-foot around. Louis tried to avoid Johnny's direct approach.

"What do you mean?"

"Cut out the avoidance bullshit. Are you and Harry together?"

Louis fiddled with his hat, his discomfort evident. "Man, you're unvarnished, aren't ya?" he shot back at Johnny.

"Unvarnished, abrupt, upfront, whatever . . . I wanna know the score. I need to prepare the hands for when you guys get back."

"Three of you already know. Only ones to break it to are Leo, Nora and Cookie. I'm plannin' on tellin' them. And we're stayin' another two weeks. Gotta get the mustang broke."

"Wait, you're gonna break it here? And don't tell me that's the only reason you're stayin' an extra two weeks." Johnny's eyes held a strange glitter.

"Is this really necessary?" Louis demanded a little too loudly, causing Harry to glance over at them. He'd been tying the bags of food and clothes to the horses to take back to the cabin.

"Alright, we want a little more time to work with the horse . . . and . . . be alone," Louis was so flushed that he felt like it was ninety degrees outside when it was actually quite cool.

"That's what I thought. Niall said you caught some mustangs, but not much more."

"We'll tell you all the specifics when we get back. I can't tell you any more than that meself right now."

Johnny looked a little bewildered. He silently tried to figure out why Louis wouldn't say anything about the horses they'd caught, but he must have his reasons, and he'd learned not to question his boss too much as it tended to make him grumpy. He had already given him the third degree, and was frankly kind of jarred that Louis hadn't blown up on him. But then, Louis' whole attitude seemed altered. He'd find out in a little over two weeks anyway.

"Okay, Harry's got everythin' I brought, so you're set." Johnny turned to go.

"Uh, Johnny," Louis moved close to as to speak softly. "Thanks. Thanks for . . . everythin.'"

Johnny tipped his hat and roared off in the truck, not trusting himself to lock eyes with his boss, as he was feeling a little on the misty side. Looked like he didn't do a half-bad job of playing Cupid.

Only half an hour later Niall drove up in another truck, towing a trailer.

"Thought you might need help releasin' the other mustangs," he said as he stepped out of the truck. Louis grinned. Niall had read his mind. Wasn't the first time. They sure would be able to use his help. Harry hadn't known of Louis' plans to let the other mustangs free today, and he looked on curiously as Niall unloaded the same horse he'd brought last time. The horse that could really burn rubber.

Louis walked over to Harry, calming him with a steady hand on his shoulder. "Don't look so concerned. Johnny asked me if we were a couple, and I confirmed it. Now Niall's here to help us let the other mustangs go."

Harry had actually been a little worried about the conversation between his boss and Johnny, and especially at Louis' raised voice at one point.

"Already?" asked Harry, an unsettled tone peppering his words.

"I've watched the mustangs interact with Saber and Joaquin. I'm pretty sure they'll be fine with your pinto. He won't be lonely with them around. We can hang around and make sure, but if it's okay with you, we can let 'em go today and leave our horses with Mystic Thunder."

Harry looked into his eyes, then beyond him to the mountains, sticking the toe of his boots into the dirt in ambivalence, sending little clouds of dust into the air.

"Don't worry. I'm sure they'll be fine, or I wouldn't do it. Oh, and you'll ruin your boots if you keep kickin' the dirt like that."

Harry's eyes darted to Louis,' and he laughed. "I'd almost forgotten about that! That was a long time ago!" Louis had jogged his memory about how he'd warned Louis about damaging his own boots when he barely knew him.

"Do you wanna do it today?" Louis was asking Harry's permission, which Harry found very considerate.

"Well, you know better than I do, but yeah, I'm in."

Now they just had to figure out how to do it, making sure it would be as foolproof an approach as possible. Other than roping the pinto, and tying him to one of the posts, there really was no infallible way to get the other horses out while keeping him in the pen. And the mustang, of course, wasn't rope broke. He could easily choke himself to death trying to get away, or break his neck.

Niall offered to try to keep the pinto in the corner while Harry and Louis ran the others out the gate, but Louis knew Mystic Thunder would be determined, and a wild mustang who is adamant would be relentless and out of his mind to get away. Louis feared for Niall, and one man wasn't enough to thwart the mustang's efforts to break free. Wrangling the mustangs into the corral had been risky enough. This had the potential to be a lot worse.

He could have Harry open the gate, and Louis and Niall could somehow position themselves and their horses, and just hope the mustang wouldn't get past them . . . But they would be venturing into daredevil territory, and while Louis didn't mind putting himself at risk, he was not comfortable with the idea of either of the hands being in peril. Even Harry, opening the gate and being on the outside, could be in danger if things didn't go exactly right. Anything could happen. It struck real, icy fear into Louis' heart.

Louis went over everything with Niall and Harry, not wanting to just wing it and hope for the best. These animals would be in the corral with the riders, with no quick exit handy, and desperate mustangs were not the best animals to be confined with. Was it worth it? To put human lives at risk? Louis asked this question of Niall and Harry.

They both took it to heart, mulling it over, muttering to themselves, trying to work out schemes in their minds, but no one could come up with anything specific that would work better than what Louis had suggested.

"If you see danger to _anyone,_ and there's time, just let them all go," Louis was wearing that offhand boss-face that meant he would tolerate no dismissal of his orders. No being a hero, no making up the rules as they went along. Niall and Louis would enter on horseback. It wouldn't be difficult to get in the gate, as the mustangs feared them and would stay at the back. Once Louis and Niall had Mystic Thunder more or less singled out and blocked off, Harry would open the gate at Louis' signal, and the other horses would flee. _Sounded_ easy, but Louis knew it would be anything but.

If he had any brains, Louis figured he should wait until Niall came out again in two days. Two days wouldn't make that much difference. And he really should think it over more, look at all the possible consequences, analyze all possible outcomes, be utterly responsible in his decision to undertake this.

But . . . he also wanted to get it out of the way. No matter how they approached it, there would be risks, hazards. His stomach flipped and jumped with nerves. There would be other dangers on the road to taming and training Harry's mustang, but this was by far the biggest.

"Let's do it!" he said suddenly, as if waking up from a trance. He and Niall had taken plenty of chances in the past, and so far, by the grace of God, no harm had come to either one of them. And Harry had the least dangerous job, so Louis could rest somewhat easy when it came to his lover, although not completely. There was no way to predict how it would go.

He was such a rough, tough cowboy, and all man, mused Harry as he watched the ideas bounce around on Louis' face. Determined and courageous were the words that came to Harry's mind. He had to admit it turned him on when Louis was all business and the sturdy, rugged boss man.

They discussed what they'd do. Louis and Niall simply needed to keep one horse in and let the other horses go. Harry only needed to open the gate to let the others out, and then slam it shut immediately after. There was no more to discuss, really. So, Harry opened the gate as Niall and Louis entered, everyone's heart pounding double time. The mustangs, as predicted, were gathered at the back, as far from the men as they could possibly get. They had to be sure they didn't spook the animals into a panic, yet they had to somehow get the other horses away from Mystic Thunder, and keep him pinned as much as they could, in a small area. That would be one of the hardest parts.

The finesse it required took patience and skill. These ranch horses had been trained to yield their hindquarters, forequarters, to back, and to side pass, or move sideways at the slightest touch of a leg, and if there was any chance of being successful, these horses could do the job.

So it was with a lot of faith in Joaquin that Louis entered the corral, followed closely by Niall. The mustangs were jittery, and that was an understatement. Louis and Niall had to wait until they calmed down and stopped plunging around wildly. It took at least ten minutes of just sitting their horses quietly, doing nothing but standing there. The mustangs eyed them suspiciously, never letting the cowboys get out of their field of vision. Many of them turned their butts to the cowboys, and this was another obstacle to be dealt with, as the mustangs would try to lash out with their back legs should the cowboys approach them.

Slowly, and without being confrontational, Louis and Niall approached them from the side, at an angle to stay away from their hind ends, and the mustangs ran in the other direction instead of trying to kick. So they moved them back and forth around the corral, around and around the perimeter at a fairly quick pace, switching between a trot and a canter until the mustangs started to tire. Louis and Niall didn't have to move their horses much, because the mustangs were leery and moving constantly. Gradually they got between the mustangs and Mystic Thunder, who they had not chased or showed any interest in. This was purposely so the pinto would think he was safe as long as he stayed off by himself. It wasn't effective at first, as he wanted to be with the others, but he eventually understood he wouldn't be hassled and moved around if he stayed quietly in the far end of the corral.

That was when Niall and Louis blocked him from the rest of the herd by merely standing their horses across the corral at an angle, ready to block him should he try to run past them. Three horses and riders would be better, but they had to work with what they had. Mystic Thunder stood trembling and snorting in the corner, awaiting their next move. They were positioned perfectly, and in that instant, Louis nodded to Harry, signaling him to open the gate.

The mustangs didn't need to be driven out—they knew very well where the gate was, and, ultimately, freedom. They rushed the gate at a speed that nearly petrified Louis, filing out of the gate two and three at a time, making Louis fearful they would squash each other at the five foot wide opening. The pinto, realizing his herd mates were leaving, tried to slip in front of Louis. Louis spurred Joaquin forward, effectively blocking him. The mustang then spun around and rushed the space between Joaquin and Niall's horse. Niall rocketed his horse forward, blocking the pinto again. At this point, the pinto was becoming distraught, and he plunged the other way, eyes wild, now trying to get behind Niall's horse. Niall backed his horse up quickly, the horse's haunches nearly brushing the dirt, just barely getting there in time to keep the mustang from whizzing past. At this point, all the other mustangs were out of the gate, thundering to the back of the valley, and Harry slammed the gate.

"Oi, oi!" yelled Louis, waving his hat and dismounting so he could leave Joaquin in with the lone mustang. Mystic Thunder approached the riderless horse, glad to have another equine. He watched the other mustangs run by, a despairing look in his eye, but then turned to Joaquin again for comfort. Joaquin nuzzled him as if to tell him everything would be alright. Niall dismounted as well, and he and Louis climbed over the fence.

Harry, all smiles and dimples, ran to Louis, who caught him in his arms, picking him up off his feet, spinning him and crying, "Well done!"


	59. Chapter 59

That evening, as the sun began to set behind the mountains, Louis studied Harry. The last rays of the sun caught Harry's face just right, and the sight made Louis breathless. The lad was so perfect, and Louis could scarcely believe he was his lover. He watched every emotion that exploited itself on his face; all on display just for him. It was endearing how Harry returned his gaze without a single bit of timidity or reservation. A lot was said without words.

 _They'd done it._ They'd built a relationship that was fearfully close, uninhibited and carefree. Louis was smiling more than he had in eons. Feeling his mouth turn up, his eyes crinkling at the outer corners, and hearing his own laugh was almost alien. And it was all Harry's doing. Harry had taught him to live in the moment, to not take life so seriously, go for what he wanted instead of what he _felt_ he needed to do. To enjoy life, savor every sensory experience-like Harry's touch, Harry's dimply smile, Harry's passion-filled green eyes.

Louis' father's influence was slowly fading. The work ethic was still very much there, and the discipline, but the feeling of having to have stifling control over himself, the inner voice of censorship had all but vanished. With Harry by his side, he was glimpsing more and more of what life could offer him.

The breeze ruffled Harry's dark hair, blowing it across his face, and enchanting Louis right down to his bones as well as down to his toes, his fingertips. He, in fact, felt it in every part of his body, especially his heart, and the way it felt it might explode pleasantly with elation.

After it got dark, they sat and watched the stars that looked close enough to touch. The sky was blanketed with them. The sky seemed so near, yet so vast. There weren't any clouds tonight, and they might as well have been millions of miles away from any other human being.

"I wish more kids could experience this. Open spaces, mountains, the sound of crickets. Nature in general, instead of being home playing those silly games, like Fido," said Louis.

Harry giggled softly. "Fifa."

"Fifa, whatever. I've never even played it," said Louis disdainfully. "Have you?"

"Guilty. I've played it, yeah. But not to the extent that kids nowadays do. Not for hours at a time, every day."

"Those kids need a goal, a purpose. I think the best feelin' in the world is the feel of a powerhouse of a horse underneath me, the wind in me face, sweat on me brow, dirt on me hands, even the taste of dust on me tongue."

Harry nodded sagely. "I've always wanted that. Even when I had no idea what ranch life would really be like. I just vaguely knew I needed something like you just described. That's why I had to come here, to Texas, to a real workin' ranch. I had to have the experience, to see if it would cure me restless yearnin.' And now that I have, I can't imagine doin' anythin' else."

Louis hoped Harry would stick around a while. No, not a while. More like forever. They'd told each other of their love, but hadn't talked about a forever. They'd get there. Louis could scarcely believe they'd come _this_ far. He'd been afraid to dare to hope that Harry would someday be his. And the day seemed to have come. It seemed Harry was going to stay. They were exclusive, and in love.

"It's moments like this that really matter in life," Harry murmured as they lay side by side on their backs, on a clean blanket, Niall having taken the dirty one back to the ranch with him.

"And it's funny . . . I don't normally admit stuff like this, but you're the one who taught me that," responded Louis. "Before, everythin' was business, work, and more work. I realize now that this life wasn't made just for work."

Relief ruled Harry, glad that Louis had made such an important discovery, and he cuddled up to him. "I could get way too used to this," he confided.

"Yeah, me too. Why do you think I want another two weeks?"

"But . . . what'll it be like when we get back? I mean, I know I'll be livin' in the house with you, but, um, it'll be hard not to . . . flirt with you like I do here." Harry had a good point.

"We can share our secret smiles and such. The others will know about us anyway. I'm proud of what we have. We just better lay off the holdin' hands and kissin.' We might nauseate the others," replied Louis.

"It'll make us hungrier for each other at the end of the day, abstainin' like that."

"Exactly. I can't imagine our sex life bein' any hotter, but if it's possible, that would do it," smiled Louis.

They had been cutting wood earlier to be sure they would have enough for the fireplace, even though, in Harry's opinion, there was more than plenty already. They had quite a stack in the cabin as well as much more outside. But Louis was being OCD as usual, and he seemed to really require the organization and efficiency of having everything in order, and more than sufficient supplies for everything they might need. Harry just accepted him the way he was, because it was all of the components of the man that made him love Louis. Even the idiosyncrasies.

"Wish it wasn't dark. I'm all sweaty from that wood cuttin.' I could use a bath."

"I'm just as sweaty," Harry pointed out.

"Yeah, I guess so," Louis said diffidently.

"Bein' around horses and such, we don't always smell like roses."

Louis understood Harry's reasoning, but he didn't want Harry to be repulsed by him, or even put off a little bit.

Harry decided he needed to make a point. He lifted Louis' sweatshirt and pulled it up enough to raise Louis' arms without taking it off. Then he buried his nose in Louis' armpit, inhaling deeply.

"What the fuck?" Louis was flabbergasted. "Harry . . . "

"Your sweat smells like you. All man. And yummy," Harry smoothed Louis' sweatshirt back down.

"Are you serious? Imagine that- people would never know it to look at you, but I think my sweet, innocent Hazza is a little kinky!" exclaimed Louis, laughing in spite of himself. "I love it," he added. "Because I'm the only one who knows about it."

Harry thought of when he'd rimmed Louis, and now this . . . Yeah, he must seem a bit on the "different" side to Louis. Perhaps abnormal? Not exactly vanilla. What did he care, anyway? Every part of Louis turned him on. Perhaps certain people might not admit it, but everyone had their preferences in regards to what aroused them sexually, and Harry was simply being himself.

"You know what? You turn me on with your . . . fetishes, or whatever they're called."

This made Harry smile. Louis was obviously liking his sexual tastes, and that could only mean more hot sex in the future.

"What about me stinkin'?" Harry suddenly looked concerned.

"You don't stink, Haz. You smell like you, and that's always pleasant to me sniffer."

Harry went back to gazing up at the stars, chewing on his lower lip. Louis' eyes were pinned on him. He should be looking at the stars too, but he found Harry infinitely more engrossing. It always excited him when Harry chewed his lip. It usually meant he was contemplating something, or trying to figure something out. But he looked so damn sexy when he did it.

As they stretched out on the blanket again, and began kissing, Louis wanted this night to never end. Harry languidly sucked on Louis' tongue, causing the warm ripples of desire to unfurl and snake around in Louis' middle. It was an actual ache, this longing. They weren't in any hurry, and drawing it out like this was always wickedly good. They played around slowly and sensually, and before long, Harry was clutching at him with a raw urgency. Louis gazed at Harry's blown pupils and enjoyed seeing the naked lust in them.

Harry over him, his body stretched out on Louis' own body, the feel of Harry's cock dragging over his sweat pants, the friction of their cocks through their clothes causing them to rock against each other.

"Want me to fuck you tonight?" Louis was sure Harry would have a positive response to his question. Louis had his hand down the front of Harry's sweats, and was fondling him, much to Harry's delight.

"Oh God, yes!" There wasn't any trepidation in Harry's voice that Louis could detect. He was fascinated, because Harry had not had sex with a man—or anyone—before. Yet he showed such eagerness, such trust in Louis.

"I'll take care of you, Haz. I won't hurt you."

"I know. I wouldn't let anyone else do that to me but you, Lou."

Louis' heart melted and cramped at the same time. Harry's trust was the most precious thing he'd ever been gifted with. As they lay there, Louis' hand continued to caress Harry's cock, encouraging those little noises from Harry that were so appealing. Slowly, little by little, Louis' fingers went lower, cupping Harry's balls, and then traveling lower still, under his balls and swiping across his hole. Harry jumped, then moaned. Oh yeah. This was going to be easier than Louis had imagined. But the problem was, Louis didn't know what he was doing. How should he approach this? Should he insert a finger now, or tease a little more? He concluded it was better to go with his instincts rather than overthink it, so he teased Harry at length, his finger staying busy, but not penetrating.

Before long, Harry was restless, pleading for more without having to say a word. His grunts and whines, the way he spread his legs more, and pushed against Louis' finger made his state of mind easy to discern even if you'd never done this before. And Louis appreciated it. It made things a lot less complicated for him.

He flipped Harry over so he was on top, and eased his finger in up to his first knuckle. Harry gasped his pleasure, bucking his hips and crying out. This alarmed Louis momentarily.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Ahhhh . . ." sighed Harry. Louis supposed that was all Harry was capable of vocalizing right then. It was obvious, however, that it was a _good_ sigh.

"More?" Louis whispered, kissing Harry's neck, right below his ear. Harry nodded, again being incapable of speech.

Louis pushed his finger in a little bit more, feeling Harry tense up as he did so.

"I'll stop. Just say the word, or shake your head or sommat."

"It's okay. Don't . . . stop," Harry stammered. Louis realized Harry was adjusting to his finger, learning to relax.

It stung. It burned. Harry focused on letting go of the tension, wondering how in the world he was going to be able to let Louis fuck him if half of his finger caused this much discomfort. As soon as he had that thought, Louis pulled his finger out and wiped the head of his cock, using the pre-come to lubricate his finger, and then re-inserted it.

There! That was much better. It was still uncomfortable, but it didn't burn as much. Harry let Louis know of his relief with a moan. His body was so delighted to have Louis' finger back.

"Might help to bear down just a little bit," advised Louis, knowing the action would force Harry to relax. So Harry tried it. It helped a lot, and soon Louis' entire finger was swallowed up by his body.

Now the pain was gone, and Harry felt feral, beginning to fuck against Louis' finger wantonly, spreading his legs even wider. So Louis experimented by introducing a second finger very slowly and carefully. At first, Harry tensed up again, but quickly corrected himself. It took a little longer, but Harry eventually started to buck and whine again.

When they got to the third finger, Harry was a mess. He was uncomfortable, yet turned on to the max. He hardly knew what to do with himself. He threw his head from side to side, loving the feel, but underneath it all, still convinced Louis would never get his cock up there. He had to stop thinking about that and just enjoy it . . .

Harry, I know you're likin' it, but I can see your ambivalence too. You want it, but you're scared too, and I understand. I would be scared as well." Louis had stopped his ministrations and removed his fingers even though Harry whimpered when he did.

"It's okay."

"No, it's not. I don't wanna do this until I know you're ready. It's important," stressed Louis. "It's me way of provin' to you that your mental comfort and needs come first."

Harry reluctantly relented, and they did other things instead. Louis took both their cocks in his two hands, pressing their dicks together to bring them off. He would have used one hand, but Harry was far too thick for that. The slippery pre-come kept them slick enough so that Louis only stroked them for a few minutes before they both burst, their seed ending up everywhere. Harry clung to him, limp and helpless.

"Well, there goes another gross blanket for Nora to wash. I don't think it's gross, but she probably will," laughed Louis. Harry wasn't capable of speech just yet. He had strong orgasms with Louis that took everything out of him. He'd never had an orgasm anywhere near as intense when he'd jacked himself off. Louis himself had rubber legs, and they stumbled into the cabin, cold and shivering, Louis feeding the fire before they got into bed.

It was some time later that Harry had refueled his energy enough to ask Louis about his horse.

"Do you think we can start working with Mystic Thunder tomorrow?"

Louis chuckled. "You don't waste any time, do you mate?"

"I'm a little over-eager, I reckon."

"You do know it'll be a while before you can even lay a hand on him?"

"Yeah, but how long's a while?"

"Depends on how much you work with him, but probably over a week, if you work with him daily. Don't get cheeky though. They can whirl and kick you in an instant, or bite you and take a huge chunk outta you. I'm not tryin' to scare you," Louis reminded him when Harry's eyes got especially wide. "I just want you to be extra careful."

Harry was imagining the young stallion charging him, teeth bared, hard, sharp hooves pounding, and him not being able to get over the fence fast enough. He knew how fast young stud horses could be. Incredibly fast, considering how big they were. He stated his concerns.

Louis explained. "Most won't charge you, unless they're not capable of being completely tamed, and those you don't wanna even try to work with. But most are only thinkin' about gettin' away from you. They won't do anythin' unless you corner them, or get too close, and they feel desperate. I'll show you tomorrow, so you'll have an idea how to work with him. I'll test him and see if he's gonna be an outlaw or not. Like I said, most aren't. They're just scared."

"You call them outlaws? Why?"

"Because they're rogues—they'll run roughshod over you. They're the type, that even if it seems you have them tamed down, you can never trust them. They'll get you when you least expect it. But we'll know tomorrow if he's that type. Don't worry, Haz. It's rare."

Harry's winter green eyes were shining, admiring and full of envy at Louis' knowledge. Louis reflected how he had gotten injured before by wild mustangs, not seriously, but he didn't want that happening to Harry. He'd gotten kicked in the stomach, and it had made a huge bruise he'd had for weeks, and he'd been hospitalized for a few days for observation. He'd also been struck in the chest by a rearing mustang's hooves that he'd pushed a little too fast, before he knew better. He'd learned his lessons, and not the easy way. He intended for Harry to respect the wild horse, but to also instill a respect for humans into the horse. That made the best riding horse—mutual respect. He'd help Harry all he could, and he trusted Harry to do the best job he could, like he'd done with everything he'd learned since he'd been on the ranch. He had complete faith in Harry, as long as Harry understood the potential consequences if he made any mistakes.

"Why are they all stallions?" Harry wanted to know.

"It's known as a 'bachelor band,'" explained Louis, "They are born into a herd, and are tolerated, but when they reach the age of about two, the leader of the herd, a stallion, will kick them out as soon as he feels they are close to becomin' a threat to him and his leadership. The young studs form a herd of their own until they can form their own herd, with mares. That happens when they are old enough and strong enough to challenge an aging or weaker stallion for his herd. Horses, being herd animals, don't like to be alone, so these young bachelor studs stick together."

Harry finally understood. He'd wondered before, but hadn't asked because he was afraid it might be common knowledge, and he'd appear less than informed. Well, here it _was_ common knowledge, but not where he was from.

As Harry contemplated the journey he was about to embark on with a wild horse who had never been touched by man, he was thoughtful.

Louis saw the younger man's consternation, and he felt it in the atmosphere. "You'll do fine, Haz. It'll be worth every minute you spend with him." Louis voice was reassuring and soft. Harry's hand brushed over Louis' bristled chin, peering at the man with unconcealed wonder in his eyes. He could see that Louis loved him, and his own love only escalated.

"You know, he has the look of eagles," Louis commented a few minutes later.

"What?"

"Your horse. He has what they call the 'look of eagles.' It's in his eyes. You'll see it when I point it out to you. It's a highly desired quality that usually means a horse has a lot of heart, and will be an exceptional animal that has real try. You only come across them every great once in a while."

Harry had gotten the feeling the horse was special when he'd first laid eyes on him, and he'd felt it was more than his obvious beauty. There was something about the way the young stud carried himself. Harry had thought that perhaps he was just being fanciful. Now Louis was confirming that the animal was indeed special, and maybe even extraordinary.

After a while, Harry brought the inevitable subject up again. "Lou, when can we . . . you and me . . ." he stalled, waiting for Louis to rescue him.

"We can try again tomorrow night. But I have to be sure, Curly. I have to be sure you're going to be relaxed enough, unafraid, and ready, yeah?"

Harry nodded, perceiving what Louis was trying to communicate, and wanting it now, but comprehending that his total peace of mind was very important to Louis.

When they fell asleep that night, Louis spooning him, Harry dreamed of galloping over hills and valleys on his mustang, bareback, the wind sweeping his hair back, the feel of Mystic Thunder's long, thick mane entangled between his fingers. Being one with the horse, perfectly balanced. The incontestable drive to run ever faster telegraphed between the beast and himself, racing the wind in perfect time to the thrumming of his heart.


	60. Chapter 60

Louis watched on as Harry stood in the middle of the makeshift corral they had made, whip in hand, with Mystic Thunder galloping around the inside of the fence, circling Harry again and again. The horse's nostrils were flared wide and his coat was soaked with sweat, his flanks heaving. He didn't yet know that Harry would take the pressure off as soon as he stood still and faced his captor. His lungs cried out for air, and his pace was noticeably slower than it had been twenty minutes ago.

Harry looked to Louis over his shoulder—just for a second. Louis knew Harry's concern.

"Keep him goin,' Haz. He's almost ready."

Just a couple of minutes after Louis had made his statement, the horse's head turned toward Harry in mid-stride, looking at him, ears pricked, as if looking for answers.

"Back off! Now!" Louis wanted to be sure the timing was precise.

Harry immediately took a step back, letting the horse know he could rest if he faced him. That it was the response Harry wanted. Louis smiled—he could depend on Harry to hustle, not drag his feet like a lot of people, and the result being a confused horse. Harry turned his back and walked to the fence, then turned and faced the horse from across the corral. The horse was so relieved to be able to get some air into his lungs that he let his head drop lower, and Louis liked that. It showed the horse was accepting Harry's authority.

They let him rest for about ten minutes, until his breathing was back to normal, then Louis directed Harry to send him off in the other direction. All Harry had to do was flick the end of the whip, and the horse responded. Louis liked that he wasn't the least bit sluggish. He was sensitive and responsive, but not hypersensitive. A lazy horse might try to get out of the work by refusing to move out of a walk, but Mystic Thunder went right back into a canter, with it being no longer rushed, and no desperate feeling to it. The horse was beginning to understand that if he faced Harry, and went in the direction Harry asked, he wouldn't be made to run for as long. This was the very beginning stage of him learning to trust Harry.

A few minutes later, Harry took the pressure off when the mustang again turned his head toward him, as if asking if he could stop for another breather. Harry backed up instantly, and the horse stopped moving, and faced him.

"Well done. Let's call it a day with him," said Louis, and Harry climbed the fence to join him.

"He's comin' along real well," Louis clapped Harry on the back. "Soon, he'll be taking a step or two toward you, looking for guidance."

Harry had never known anyone who had tamed and trained a wild mustang, and this whole experience was very enlightening for him. He took joy in seeing the animal respond to him, once he knew what Harry wanted of him.

"That's a lotta work!" exclaimed Harry. He'd had to block the mustang when he'd tried to go the wrong way several times. Most horses had a "favorite" side, and had to be convinced to go in both directions equally. And the trainer always dictated which direction would be taken.

"You bet it is!" Louis agreed. "Tamin' and breakin' a mustang is an accomplishment to be proud of."

Louis had worked with the horse first to get a feel for him, and to be sure Harry would be safe. The horse had shown no aggressiveness, just the normal fear. The fear would now be replaced slowly with confidence as the horse learned that if he would just cooperate with the human, his life would be a lot easier than if he didn't.

"You know what? I think he's not really grey, but blue roan!" Louis was overjoyed to give Harry this bit of information.

"Really?"

Harry had been disappointed when he'd remembered that grey horses always got lighter in color with age, until no grey remained. He had accepted the fact that some day he'd have a white horse with no spots. Now Louis was telling him his horse was actually a blue roan, meaning he'd keep that bluish-greyish color for the rest of his life, with no fading. The attractive spots would remain!

"Yep, he'll remain just like he is now," Louis nodded, showing his approval. "This horse has it all—brains, sensitivity and looks, plus a good mind. You've got a winner here."

Harry was relieved, since his color was part of Mystic Thunder's beauty, and besides that, a white horse, or mostly white, is very hard to keep clean. But the remark about his horse's intelligence and stable mind pleased him the most.

"I like the way you follow me instructions to the letter," commented Louis, knowing that Harry really appreciated praise. "With a wild horse, it's all about timin.' Your timin' is impeccable. Tomorrow we'll work on gettin' him to stop and face us as soon as we stop tellin' him to move. We'll take off all pressure, and before long, he'll automatically know what to do. After he has that down cold, we'll start approachin' him, but very gradually over a few days, so he'll slowly lose his fear of us. But very slow. It's all about approach and retreat."

Niall had been out earlier, and had gone down to the valley to admire Harry's horse again, shaking his head in awe, commenting on how the other hands would all be envious.

Harry's green eyes were all but dancing in the weak winter sun. He wrapped his arms around Louis' neck.

"Because of you, I have two awesome horses!"

Louis almost looked away, feeling conspicuous and a little bit embarrassed, even though no one was around but the two of them. It was a knee-jerk response he needed to get over. He needed to yield to, and allow himself to enjoy, the fact that Harry was very touch-feely. Besides, Harry was turning him on again. He'd never known he could have sex so many times in such a short period of time. Every move Harry made, every time he even hinted at flirting, and especially when Louis could examine his naked body at his leisure as Harry walked around or spread himself out on the bed, oblivious to how he made Louis' libido top out, Louis felt like he'd won the lottery.

Louis swore Harry's long legs must have covered nearly three feet with every stride as they ventured back toward the cabin. But Louis kept up with him. His powerful thighs counted for something, even though Harry's legs were undeniably longer. They had left their horses in with Mystic Thunder, only removing them when Harry worked with him, but they didn't mind walking back on foot at all. They feasted their eyes on each other, eyes roving up and down, and then looked up at the same time and laughed. Louis' heart was light and his love for this enchanting Cheshire lad was growing by the day. He knew Harry was hoping they'd be able to "do the deed" tonight, and Louis was thinking long and hard about it. Evaluating it, looking at it from every angle, and he was, frankly, more disquieted than ever about Harry. He didn't think the lad had any accurate vision of what this would entail. Harry might be expecting instant bliss, but Louis knew without a shadow of a doubt that Harry would be in pain, and that was the last thing he wanted to inflict upon him.

Maybe he should offer for Harry to fuck him instead the first time? Louis didn't really mind at all, and it might demonstrate to Harry what he was getting into. Hell, they could continue with what they'd been doing—sucking each other, sixty-nining and jerking each other off, and Louis was really eager to rim Harry. Louis was in Heaven with the way it was now. If Harry wanted to fuck him instead of the other way around, Louis wouldn't voice any complaints. He wanted Harry happy—that was the main thing, and of great importance to him. It was even more important than his own happiness. Although, how he could possibly be happier put him at a loss. It just wasn't possible.

Louis was busy turning his situation over in his mind as they neared the cabin. He'd always suspected what he was, or for at least most of his life—subconsciously. The women never made a difference, or a dent in his lust. Lust for what, he hadn't known, but had always reckoned a girl would come along who would be "the one," and change his mind. That day hadn't come.

The strict control he'd always practiced had just been a cover-up. He had never been able to say the actual words. _I'm gay._ He hadn't been positive himself, but when he met Harry, that doubt had evaporated. When Harry had come along, Louis had found out who he was. Meeting Harry had caused all doubt to dissipate, although it had taken a while. It was that simple, in the end. All the wasted years of pretending . . . and in the process, he had pushed women away—hurt them. He hadn't meant to, but he'd been so focused on himself and his confusion that he hadn't thought to try to spare their feelings.

And now he felt like he could take a deep breath and _relax._ Not be a phony anymore. Like most children, he'd taken his father's word as gospel. And his father had sent out the wrong message too many times. He'd made Louis think that anyone other than a hard-working, old-fashioned, commanding dictator was less than a man. He had said derogatory things about "faggots" as he had always referred to gay men. Louis had gotten the message early on that anyone who wasn't hetro was an outcast, an abomination. It was far from easy to peel that thick layer of guilt and disgrace from Louis' conscience now that he had fallen in love with Harry.

He and Harry, having another of their heart-to-hearts, discussed this as they walked. Louis hadn't said so, but he was even more frightened of what would happen when they were found out than Harry was. Not the ranch employees, but people in town. And no matter how hard they worked at being discreet, he knew that sooner or later, people would figure it out.

"You won't be . . . ashamed of me, will ya?" asked Harry. Immediately he slapped his hand over his mouth, realizing how harsh, how cold that had sounded.

Louis reacted strongly and directly as he stopped walking and turned to face Harry in a no-nonsense manner, gripping his shoulders and pulling him directly in front of his face with inches to spare.

"What? You didn't just say what I thought you did . .. did you?" Louis couldn't dilute the cloak of hurt that dropped over him.

"Bad choice of words, but like you said, your dad instilled ideas into you . . . " Harry said weakly.

"I would never, in a million years, be ashamed of you Harry Styles! Why did you ever say that? Why would you doubt me? Haven't we shared everythin'? Don't you know how strong me feelin's are for you?"

"Yeah, sure we've shared a lot. But . . . when people grow up havin' sommat beaten into their heads about what a real man is, it would be, like, really hard to go totally against that."

Louis took off his hat to run a restless hand through his hair. "Yeah, yeah I admit that it's hard as hell to be, in some ways, the opposite of me father, but I've got to be true to meself. And I love you. I might be embarrassed a bit at first, but I would _never, but never_ be ashamed of you Harry! And I'm shocked you would even consider that possibility."

"I don't think you would, but I'm just askin.'" Harry didn't have a clue what he should say next. His choice of words sucked. He should have just asked if Louis would be embarrassed, not if he would be ashamed of him.

"Haven't I told you, Haz, how beautiful I find you?" Louis winced just a touch at using those words. Probably from lack of use. But it was the honest truth. He thought Harry was stunning.

"Well, yeah . . . but I don't see it, really. I'd rather be dashing and ruggedly handsome, like you."

Louis somehow stopped the blush that threatened to flood his face.

"Well, then we're quite perfect for each other. We each have attributes the other admires," he said weakly, unsteadily, and perhaps slightly shyly. He had just as much difficulty seeing his own attractiveness as Harry did with his own. "You're beautiful, inside and out, and I love you, and would never be ashamed of you," Louis wrapped up his thoughts with forcing himself to say the things he felt inside all of the time.

Harry spoke. "I've seen, at times, those shadows that still cloud your eyes. Not storm clouds, but more than those fluffy white cumulus things."

Louis chuckled at that. "Well, the sun is slowly emergin.' Just give it time," he advised.

"Well, you're not called Sunshine for nothin.'" Harry smiled, and Louis was melting again.

They got undressed after a delicious dinner of Cookie's chicken fried steak, baked potatoes and peas, heated over the fire. The biscuits were warm and buttery, although not as soft as they would have been fresh out of the oven.

The remaining two-thirds of the bottle of Chardonnay sat beside the bed, Louis fairly certain they'd need at least a little of it if they were going to make love with actual penetration tonight.

"I want you, Louis," Harry said baldly, his face advertising hopeful expectation like a billboard. Louis felt inadequate and lame in this setting. How could he help Harry with it when he had no knowledge himself? He was afraid of letting Harry down. He'd told Harry he didn't know what to do, and Harry had placed his faith in him. What a burden to carry!

Louis was so nervous during foreplay that his cock was only half hard, and that was a real rarity. In fact, it had never happened with Harry before. His biggest problem had always been the fact that he was overeager. His nerves were frayed, and his heart fluttered with uncertainty. What if he hurt Harry? What if Harry decided he didn't like it because it hurt too much? Would Harry want to end things?

Okay, now he was acting insecure. He'd told Harry never to doubt him, and now he was doubting _Harry!_ Harry wouldn't end it even if it caused him agony. Harry wasn't like that. It was just anxiety. Performance anxiety, to be exact. They were in this together. They'd work it out, just as Louis had told Harry several times, in regards to the relationship in general. He was being paranoid, and he needed to snap out of it.

Louis took a deep, unsteady breath. He guessed Harry could hear how he was shaking as he breathed in short, staccato gasps, because the younger lad's eyes pinned him and held him fast.

"What's wrong, Lou?"

"I'm . . . " Louis realized he had to be honest, or be nothing at all. "I'm nervous about this . . . "

"Well, truth be told . . . me too. It might be a bit gnarly." Harry's carefree manner was gone, and Louis would have laughed at his remark had this not been such a serious thing.

"I don't wanna hurt you. Not physically, and not emotionally." Now that the words had left his mouth, Louis felt a thousand times better. He was finding that with Haz, communicating was shockingly easy. It was partially because Harry never mocked him or gave him a hard time. He was always ready to listen and work on things together.

"I knew it. I could tell by how you've been relatin' to me for the last few minutes. Kinda like you're preoccupied."

"I don't want you to think I don't want you, but you're right . . . I'm distracted."

"I trust you, Lou."

"And that's part of it—I don't want you losin' that trust."

"Why would I?"

"I don't want to accidentally hurt you. Physically, I mean."

It didn't surprise Louis that Harry was onto the fact that something was troubling him. Harry's ability to see through the bullshit and smokescreens Louis had put up was uncanny. It was almost embarrassing because Louis would have thought Harry would be the _last_ one to catch onto him. Harry could be deceiving. The others knew Louis wasn't the slave driver he made himself out to be, but Harry, well, Louis had thought he was a different story. He wondered how long Harry had been able to see right through him. Harry had been so gracious about it, and had humored Louis for most, if not all of the time he'd been on the ranch. For some reason, this made Louis' feelings for Harry even more tender. 

The wet suction, the heat. Harry was going down on Louis, and the result was all Louis' doubts and uneasiness were being eliminated with every swipe and tease of Harry's talented tongue. Harry made him dizzy with desire.

Louis knew with conviction that no one else would ever be in the running, no matter what they did. It could only be Harry. This desire for Harry was all encompassing, dark and undulating, a snake of lust whipping around inside. And concurrently, the feeling of unparalleled tenderness flowed freely. Lust and love. Louis was nonplussed with its power.

Harry was driven, incessant, sucking hard on the tip, groaning all the while, cupping Louis' butt in his hands, kneading the full globes, encouraging him to thrust into his mouth. His enjoyment was evident in his raw eagerness. The rush of sensation overpowered any wish Louis might have had to hold out longer. The electric coil in his tummy sprung loose, and his head tipped back, mouth open as he uttered words of endearment, and graphic, yet sensual and loving words that rained down gently on Harry's welcoming ears. Louis came hard and violently, and Harry let it be known he wanted him to thrust hard as he drank him down, relishing the taste and texture, coaxing out the last drop with self-satisfaction.

Louis was limp as a rag doll, chest heaving, and not able to apologize for his lack of control until he had a minute to take his senses back.

"We have all the time we need, Louis, no rush," soothed Harry as he lovingly smoothed Louis' tousled hair.

"Just give me a few minutes, baby. You know how I am when it comes to you . . . " Louis raised his eyebrows suggestively.

Harry got out of bed and walked toward the bottle of Chardonnay, which they'd both forgotten about, his monumental erection pointing straight up, and bobbing as he walked. He bent forward at the waist, then, with a mighty upward fling of his head, he tossed his hair back, smoothing it back into place with a careless hand. He was positively majestic; he reminded Louis of a lion. A clumsy lion, but hey, no one is perfect. And his imperfections were just as precious to Louis as his almost faultless self.

"Come here, bed-head," teased Louis. "And bring the bottle. Come and enjoy the afterglow with me. Let's bask in it while we can, because things are gonna get a little more intense after this."

Louis' tone was cryptic, and Harry knew exactly what he was referring to, Superficially he trembled just the slightest bit as he climbed back into bed.


	61. Chapter 61

I'm kinda likin' this stuff," Harry said of the Chardonnay. "I'm gonna miss it when we leave here."

"Oh Harold, what're you talkin' about? We can have Chardonnay anytime we want at home."

Harry had almost forgotten that he would be living with Louis in his house when they went back to the ranch. It was surreal, like a dream. He'd found his dream cowboy, and he would soon be living with him, _was_ living with him now, in fact, in the cabin. And he was everything, and more, than Harry would have ever thought possible.

"You know," murmured Louis, eyes soft and comforting, "It feels weird to be with a man, hold a man's hand, hug him, kiss him, when before it was only women."

"Feels weird to me too."

"But you handle it a whole lot better than I do. Not that I don't love it," Louis said quickly, "but it feels so different. I'm actually enjoyin' bein' with you. With the women, I could hardly wait until it was over. I thought sommat was wrong with me. Not only that, but me dad's voice keeps harpin' on me in me brain."

"Love is never wrong though; how could it be wrong?" Harry turned wide, innocent crystalline green eyes on Louis.

Louis smiled, lacing their fingers together. "I love how you see everythin' so black and white, Hazza. Nothin' seems to be as complicated to you as it is to more jaded people. I wish everyone could see the world through your eyes."

"Are you jaded, Lou?"

Louis stretched leisurely, taking a sip from his cup, and frowning in concentration and yes, regret too. Regret that he had presented a false front for so long. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm jaded in some ways. Too many ways. I make a big production of things, I stress out, I overthink, and it drains me. But you? You're smart, that much is obvious, but at the same time, you're fresh and new, you want to trust people, you take things a bit too much at face value, and you make me want to be like you."

Harry inched closer, even though he was already leaning heavily into Louis. He had a way of doing that at every opportunity. "Maybe we can work on you bein' jaded," he said softly.

"If anyone can _un_ -jade me, it would be you."

Harry had finished his cup of Chardonnay, and flopped one of his legs over Louis' as if they'd been doing this all their lives. Louis chuckled to himself. How did Harry do it? He had charmed Louis witless. He'd even gotten past Louis' concrete barrier and freed him to let his guard down and _love._ Allowed him to be playful again, rest without guilt, let go of anxiety and look forward to what tomorrow would bring. No one else had been able to do that. Each new day with Harry brought something new—some surprise, some revealed secret, comedy presented in a typical Harry-like way. Lots of sincerity, meaningful looks and, of course affection. Always affection. Harry had ginormous amounts of it and the supply was never-ending. But no one would ever see Louis complaining about it.

Harry was a little on edge, jumpy—Louis saw that just as soon as he set his own empty cup down. Harry's lower lip was even quivering, his hands unsteady.

"Harry, do we need to talk again? You're not in any shape to make love right now," Louis said gently.

"I'm just . . . um, I don't know. I guess I reckon I just don't know what to expect," Harry confessed.

"Thanks for lettin' me know instead of just suckin' it up and stayin' silent," Louis really did appreciate Harry being so forthright. It made things astonishingly easier.

"I want you to . . . make love to me, I really do. But . . . I guess it's the anticipation, you know? Not knowin' exactly what's gonna happen."

"Do you trust me?"

Harry jumped on that. "Of course! With everythin' I've got. I've just never done it before. That's probably why I'm . . . antsy."

"We don't have to, Haz. I've told you that, at least I think I have?"

Harry nodded.

"We can try at another time, or just keep things the way they are. I'm more than happy with that."

"No, I . . . I want you to . . . fuck me," Harry whispered into Louis' neck as if he was afraid of being overheard. Louis kept himself in check and didn't laugh.

"You can fuck _me,_ Harry. Seriously, I'll be fine. Let's try that first."

"Why are you so sure that I _won't_ be fine?"

"I'm not. It's just that I can see you're nervous. I don't want us doin' that until you feel you're completely ready."

"I am." Harry's face was solemn and sincere. Louis tried to read his eyes, but all he found there was heartfelt truth.

Louis took a deep breath and sighed. "Okay then. Let's loosen up a little more, and then we'll see where it goes. But there is absolutely no pressure on either one of us to do this tonight. Deal?"

"Deal!"

They drank a little more of the Chardonnay. The warmth began to spread in their veins, and their attitude changed, although gradually. They lightened up. They both began to view it as just another adventure to share, just the two of them. Fear was never really present, but a degree of tension was. Now, even that was evaporating.

"Slow burn," Louis reminded Harry as they came together to kiss. Tonight was special. He was going to claim Harry as his own (or Harry would claim him) and nothing was going to tarnish it. They would come out of this even brighter and more shiny than before, Louis was without a doubt.

Their mouths devouring each other, respiration deep and heavy, gestures of love abounded. Louis' hands were on Harry's neck, Harry's hands caressed Louis' cheeks. They couldn't get close enough, limbs enclosed limbs with an urgency that was ramped up tonight.

"Sunshine," Harry murmured somewhere in the night, and Louis' answering "Hazza love" tickled Harry's ears like down feathers. Hands wandered, but slowly, almost lazily. They both knew where this would end up, yet there was no emergent engagement—only the gradual, natural promise of their coupling.

Louis kissed Harry's torso with patience, but concurrently he enticed and tempted him. The perfect blend of sweet-talking and gentle urging. His quiet words of sensuality entranced Harry so that he could hardly form a sentence of his own.

"Sweet love of mine, I want you all to meself. This moment in time is all ours, no one else can touch it. Give yourself to me, Harry. Let me love you."

Harry instantly remembered that dream he'd had at the ranch what seemed like so long ago. The dream where Louis had said "let me love you" right before the morning alarm went off. He smiled softly. His dream had come true. How could he possibly be more blessed?

Louis' kisses on his navel tickled a little bit, but Harry was too turned on to object. Besides, he liked Louis kissing him all over. He jerked slightly when Louis' beard stubble brushed there, and Louis took it the wrong way, thinking Harry was sexually excited by it. Well, they were _both_ sexually excited, but now Louis was aroused almost to his limit. And seeing this, in turn, caused Harry to quickly reach the same level.

They met face to face, eyes of clear blue and green burning into each other, restless and needing more. It caused their cocks to flex against each other. They were on their sides, and Louis looked down and smiled. "They sure know what to do, don't they?" his eyes lowered to their cocks.

"Yeah, gay cocks," said Harry. Louis had to laugh at that. Harry was nothing if not entertaining.

Louis grasped Harry's inner thigh and brushed his fingers lightly over it. Harry shuddered, even that little gesture heating his flesh to boiling. "How about you raise your legs like I did for you?" Louis proposed. Harry could tell it took a little effort for Louis to say it, and he wasn't quite sure what Louis was onto. He hesitated, gazing at Louis quizzically.

Louis took matters into his own hands, and rolled Harry onto his back, placing a hand under each of Harry's thighs and prying them apart.

"On the edge of the bed," Louis ordered. "And hold your legs up." Louis pulled Harry to where he wanted him.

"Hell, you bloody wanker! Spread 'em!" he said playfully. "I spread mine willingly for you," he threw in.

Harry smiled and spread his thighs, allowing Louis to raise them, and then Harry held them up. He knew that the time had apparently come. Louis was going to fuck him. He laid there rather woodenly, expecting he knew not what, waiting for a possibly rude intrusion. Louis was always gentle with him, but he knew by looking into Louis' eyes that the man was aroused beyond words. Maybe he wouldn't be able to help himself from plunging into him, and Harry wondered how much control the rancher was going to have.

But then Louis' head came forward, ending up right under Harry's balls. Then as Louis spread his cheeks, his head disappeared from Harry's sight, and Harry gasped with the sudden, exquisite feel of Louis' wet, eager mouth on his hole. His tongue was demanding, and Harry forced himself to relax, knowing it would be a lot easier for Louis that way. The moment Harry was able to achieve relative relaxation, Louis moaned from down there, and his tongue licked and passively entered Harry—just the tip. When Harry relaxed completely, Louis did what Harry had done to him. Licking, sucking, and fucking his tongue into him.

Harry squirmed slightly, jostled and startled, not knowing just what to do, and then remembering how he'd done the same to Louis, and all that was really needed was for him to enjoy it. So he did. Both men were tentative, but willing and robustly eager for this experience. Harry had no idea how long Louis continued, because he was bathed in sensual bliss, caught up in the slow, delicious torment that was Louis' mouth and tongue.

When Louis finally stopped and poised himself over Harry, gathering their pre-come onto his fingers and pressing them against Harry's entrance, Harry knew the time had finally come. He told himself he wouldn't tense up, but the reality was that he probably would.

Louis finger was entering him now, and it wasn't so bad this time. Two fingers, then three. Louis gave Harry time to get accustomed to his three fingers pumping in and out of him, and Harry broke out into a sweat, knowing what was soon to come. But he stayed as relaxed as he could, considering the circumstances.

"Baby, I'm gonna try now. Relax, and promise to tell me to stop if it's too much, yeah?"

"Yeah," agreed Harry, the sweat breaking out on his face now. Louis saw it glisten in the dim light, and almost didn't go through with it. But Harry raised his hips slightly, giving him the go-ahead.

How he hated the thought of possibly hurting Harry! Louis' feelings were so tender for the lad, and it made him actually feel more fragile than Harry was in many ways. Here was Harry, being brave, offering himself up, and Louis was the one who was fearful and cowardly about it.

He placed his cock at Harry's opening and just brushed it against Harry, waiting for a protest. When Harry merely cooed slightly, he gained courage and eased just past the rim, very slowly and tentatively. Harry gasped. Louis stopped instantly and speared Harry's eyes with his own. Harry had grimaced, but now he was relaxing again. So Louis pushed just a fraction of an inch further. This time Harry jerked, inhaling and holding it.

"Stop?" asked Louis, studying Harry's every expression. But there wasn't much to analyze, as Harry's features were frozen. But a moment later, Harry shook his head, indicating no, he didn't want Louis to stop.

"Hurt, baby? Breathe . . ."

"A . . . a little bit," Harry said with a rather high pitch to his voice, and Louis knew he was at least partly lying. He started to draw back.

"No! Keep going. It'll get better." Harry's voice was still on the squeaky side, but he was breathing deeply, trying to follow Louis' instructions. Louis waited for a few seconds and then pushed in a little bit more. It took nearly five minutes, but Louis gradually slid all the way into him, and he could feel Harry tightening and relaxing by turns, and toward his full entry, Harry was relaxing most of the time.

Louis' pelvic bone at last made contact with Harry's, and he spied a huge grin on Harry's face, dimples and all.

"I'm all the way in," Louis smiled gently at him, and Harry tightened inside just then. Louis knew that Harry was doing it for his pleasure, not because of pain. His ass massaged Louis' cock so sensually.

"God almighty, you're fuckin' tight!" exclaimed Louis. "It feels so good, I don't know how long I'll last."

Harry was silent, and Louis began to kiss his cheek, neck, and then his full, enticing lips. Harry kissed him back in a way that Louis could tell he really wasn't in pain anymore—at least not a lot, and that was what he'd wanted, _needed_ to know because Harry was the type that would put up with extreme discomfort if he thought Louis was enjoying himself.

"You're so unselfish, Harry. Next time, you're fuckin' me," he murmured, still issuing loving kisses at all of Harry's skin that he could reach.

"I'm so happy this is workin,'" said a breathless Harry, and Louis was pretty sure he detected what he thought were tears in Harry's eyes.

He began to move then, watching Harry's face sharply for any sign of discomfort. He moved slowly and deliberately, until Harry urged him on. "Faster, please Lou."

It was all Louis could do to not come right then and there. So he upped his pace until Harry was moving under him, pleading for more with his body language. Soon Louis was thrusting in and out furiously, trying to keep up with Harry's urgent need for more and more. Close to the time Louis thought he was going to burst whether he wanted to or not, he must have changed the angle slightly, because Harry cried out in pleasure, gripping him tightly, his cock suddenly spurting between their bodies with tremendous force. Of course, this triggered Louis' orgasm that had been so close already, and they cried out together, Harry squeezing him in a series of demanding pulsations.

To have their climaxes at almost exactly the same time was thrilling. This was the closest they'd ever gotten to it. A combination of insane laughing, crying, and kissing ensued, and they held each other, Louis thoroughly enjoying how Harry massaged him internally, until Louis finally slipped out, still half-hard, just because Harry had that effect on him. And, frankly, he'd always been highly sexed anyway. Harry simply took it up a few notches.

"You alright?" Louis asked, his forehead lined with concentration, trying to see in Harry's eyes how he was truly feeling, knowing that Harry might tell a white lie to convince Louis he was fine.

"It was fantastic," was Harry's enthusiastic, although tired, answer.

"You aren't hurtin'?"

"No, just a little sore, but I reckon I'll be more sore tomorrow," confided Harry.

Louis nodded. "Yeah, I'm sure you will. That's why it's your turn to fuck me next time. By the way, what happened at the end there?" he was referring to Harry crying out and ejaculating with such force and feeling.

"It felt so awesome, Lou! You hit a spot or sommat inside, and it drove me mad, and me orgasm was even more mind-blowin' than it usually is!"

"I bet I know. I must've hit your prostate gland. I hear it has a powerful effect."

Harry laughed. "Well then, do that every time when you get close, and we'll probably be able to come together like we did tonight! I feel like sayin' 'goody goody gum drops,' but you'd probably call the white coats."

Louis smiled, wrapping his arms around Harry, amongst all the stickiness and sweat. Harry got up a few minutes later and fetched them a damp cloth he'd moistened with one of the many, many water bottles they had at the ready just outside the cabin door. He cleaned them both up.

"Uh, Harry. In case you were wonderin,'" Louis started out slowly, hesitant, and selecting his words with care.

"I've been tested since I had sex the last time. Just so you wouldn't think . . . I didn't care or sommat."

Harry smiled. "And you know I'm a virgin," he added.

Louis nodded. "I'm sorry I didn't say anythin' first, or explain about not using a condom, but it was the heat of the moment. I didn't want to kill the mood. But I thought you should know. Besides that, I don't _have_ any condoms."

"I trust you, Lou. I know you wouldn't put me in danger."

"Never."

The firelight caught the gleam in Harry's eyes that made a bold statement about how satisfied he was, the whorl of dark, soft hair dipping over his forehead, and Louis took a mental photograph and filed it away in his mind. He was so in love with Harry, and Harry's love for him showed in his every look, his every touch. Louis felt sure he would have fallen over onto the floor had he not been on the bed. It was such a gift to have Harry here, in bed with him, sharing his life with him.

It was then that Harry told Louis about his dream that he was awakened from, thanks to the alarm clock. Louis showed keen interest, practically mesmerized. "And the alarm went off right before we started to make love?"

"Yeah," Harry's look was utterly mournful. "Can you imagine?"

Louis laughed, but not in a mocking kind of way. He understood because he'd had a similar experience.

"I had dreams of you too, Harry. In fact, last summer I was dreamin' about givin' you a blowjob once when Cookie knocked on the door at two am to tell me the air conditioner stopped workin.' I almost got up and clobbered him because what can you do about the air conditioner at two in the mornin' anyway? I told him to remind me in a few hours, when the day started for all of us."

"Frustratin,' isn't it?"

"Beyond frustratin.' I wanted to finish that dream so much that I was pissed off for hours afterward. Never did get back to sleep."

"So we were both dreamin' about each other and you acted like you could hardly tolerate me," Harry said thoughtfully, trying to make sense of it all.

"Yeah, I put on a pretty good act for a while there, didn't I? But you'd better believe I watched your every move, wanted you sommat fierce, was dyin' to touch you."

"And that's why you avoided me for a while."

"Well yeah, it was like danglin' a piece of a kid's favorite candy just outta reach. I was itchin' to touch you all over, or maybe just on the arm—anythin.' I would have taken any tidbit you threw me. It's why I stopped me horse that day you were fixin' the fence at the end of the day. I just had to touch you, if only for a few seconds. It felt so damn good. At any other time, I couldn't do any of it without arousin' suspicion from the others. And, by the way, I thought about it, and you know how I said we couldn't be kissin' or anythin' in front of the others?"

"Yeah?"

"Fuck that. I take it back. If we're gonna be together, I can touch or kiss or hug you whenever I want to. Same goes for you. If they don't like it, they can go fuck themselves."

Harry laughed. He never thought he'd see the day when Louis would openly show affection to _anyone,_ but he was overwhelmingly thrilled that, of all the people in the world, Louis had picked him.


	62. Chapter 62

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**

Hi! My computer crashed, and I have a new one on the way. However, the next chapter will be late, as I can't get to it on the old machine. As soon as I retrieve it, I will post it. Might be a week late, and I'm sorry, as I know I have readers who are waiting for it. I thank all of you loyal readers for sticking with me. I really appreciate each one of you! Love you!


	63. Chapter 63

The next two days were, in fact, very taxing for both of them. Harry could only eat soup, and he normally had a healthy appetite, so he was hungry much of the time. Good thing the cabin was stocked with dozens of cans of soup. Louis asked Niall to bring some more the next time he came out.

Niall was compassionate and sympathetic, as he always was when someone was under the weather or emotionally afflicted in any way. He was a ready and willing ear, always seeming to come up with the right words for the occasion.

"Jesus, I bet it hurts like a mofo," he said when Louis first told him about Harry's accident. Harry had to school himself not to laugh. "Aspirin seem to be keepin' a handle on it. I give it to him every four hours," commented Louis. "Tomorrow we're gonna have him try solid food and see how he does. Tongues have a lot of blood supply, so I suspect it'll heal fast, and he'll be fine."

"Doesn't need any stitches?" asked Niall, his forehead wrinkling in thought.

"I don't think so. The cut really isn't that bad. Here, have a look at it," Louis indicated Harry should open his mouth. Harry felt a little too much like a horse that Louis was thinking about buying. Harry opened wide, and Niall hesitated before peering inside, gulping down a loud swallow, apparently apprehensive about what he might see. Louis grinned at this. Niall could castrate calves without flinching, but seemed almost queasy about seeing a bitten tongue.

Niall grimaced just a little bit. "Looks a little ugly . . . but also looks like it's already almost closed over," he remarked quickly, noting Louis' warning glare. He knew Louis didn't want Harry to be distressed.

"Yeah, just twenty-four hours and it's healed more than two-thirds, I'd say." Louis looked satisfied at Harry's tongue's progress. "The human body is amazing."

Tomorrow night . . . Louis had plans for tomorrow night. They would be able to kiss, albeit carefully, Harry could have a normal meal, and then Louis would tell him he had to wait another day to participate, but Louis was going to make sure Harry was well satisfied. It was going to be all about Harry. This thought was making Louis so eager that he had to change the subject for fear he'd get hard. Harry could make him sprout a boner in a matter of seconds. He knew that from plenty of experience.

Louis did help Harry out with a hand job that night, but he cautioned him not to get too excited and thus increase blood flow too much. "As if I can control that," laughed Harry." Louis had given Harry permission to start talking—carefully, again. So far, no bleeding had occurred.

"Well, if you think you'll get too excited . . . " Louis teased. Harry wasn't about to argue.

"I'll take it as easy as I'm able to," he replied, and that was being honest. They accomplished it without incident, Harry not being able to stifle his moans. When he recovered, he had gone for Louis, but Louis shook his head and blocked Harry's hand. "Not yet, babe. You've had enough for tonight. Tomorrow night I'm pleasurin' you, so get used to the idea."

Harry started to protest. "Look, day after tomorrow we can go back to whatever we want to do. I just want to be sure you're good to go. It's better than havin' it break open again, and push us back for another two or three days, yeah?"

Harry reluctantly agreed. It was going to a very long twenty-four hours of excruciatingly held back desire, and he wondered how they'd govern themselves. But he really had no choice in the matter if he wanted to avoid further bleeding, and possible sutures as a result.

"Wonder if you need antibiotics?" Louis was more or less talking to himself. "I know your body is equipped to handle it on its own, but infection does worry me. I have a full course of pills in me saddlebags. A broad spectrum antibiotic. Amoxicillin."

"What _don't_ you carry in your saddlebags?" Harry asked, amazed. He didn't see how Louis fit it all into that limited space.

"Not much," admitted Louis with a teasing smile. "You have to be prepared with livestock, and if you aren't close to the ranch, you need to carry things that might mean the difference between life and death. I also have a thermometer, dewormer, tiny flashlight, epinephrine, antibacterial cream, stuff to keep flies off wounds . . ." Louis was going to continue, but Harry held up a hand.

"You're gonna have to show me the inside of your saddlebags sometime. I'm dyin' to see how you pack all that shit . . . I mean, stuff."

Louis faked a huge gasp. "I tell ya, you've been around me too much. You're startin' to get a dirty mouth."

Harry stopped talking because his tongue felt weird. It was swollen and tender of course, but it also tingled, and that got worse when he talked. "Me tongue's tinglin.'"

"That's just cause it's healin.' It's actually a good sign."

"Feels like a vibrator's inside it."

Louis laughed. "Well, we might have some fun with that!"

Harry smacked him on the arm. "Didn't mean it as a joke," he complained. "Hot blooded, you are."

"Yeah, hot blooded, cold hearted," Louis returned.

Harry shook his head with conviction. " _Not_ cold hearted. Not at all. Not the new Louis." Louis liked the sound of that. Harry had transformed him into someone who saw the world, and the people in it, differently. He was so much more tolerant now. Harry had brought out his softness, and he felt it was probably the _real_ him all along—he'd just been restrained, duty-bound and self-denying.

Harry kept accidentally hitting his tongue on his teeth, especially when eating, and it hurt. And he felt like he had to practice extra caution when chewing, afraid he'd cause more damage.

Louis, coming to a conclusion of what he would do, quickly opened a bottle of pills that he'd brought inside, offering Harry one. "One of these three times a day until they're gone will insure you don't get an infection," he explained. Harry obediently popped the pill, and Louis felt a thousand times better about the situation.

The next day, Louis was busy cutting wood again while Harry rolled his eyes. They had enough firewood for about forty cabins at this point. After that, Louis was inspecting the fence that Mystic Thunder was in, making sure it was still solid in every way. It would be a shame to lose him now due to escape.

"We're gonna have to get him castrated when we get back to the ranch," Louis explained.

"Oh, I know that. Geldings are so much easier to handle, and stallions aren't predictable."

"That's right." Louis was glad Harry wasn't going to give him grief on that, but he'd been pretty sure Harry would agree with him.

After Harry had ridden Mystic Thunder, unsaddled him and groomed him, he uncharacteristically and mysteriously had gone back to the cabin not long afterward, something he never did. He always wanted to be by Louis' side, no matter what Louis was doing, so the wheels in Louis' head started turning. He finished maybe half an hour or forty minutes later and decided to go see what Harry was up to.

As he entered the cabin, he saw Harry on the bed, all sweet, soft reception. Smiling, giddy and loopy. What the hell? He was also naked. Confused, Louis panned the room, looking for clues. He didn't have to look far. There sat the bottle of Chardonnay. Oh . . . Louis' cock stood up in the blinking of an eye, as Louis remembered how affectionate Harry was when he was drinking. Ten times more than normal. And this was what Louis had been craving. It seemed they hadn't been intimate in weeks when in fact, it had only been days. Louis was starving for Harry, so hungry he wanted to growl.

Then Louis spied some movement under the sheet that partly covered Harry's nude body. Louis yanked the sheet back to see Harry slowly and sensually playing with himself. If that wasn't the most erotic sight! He'd never seen Harry masturbate, and his interest was held securely.

Louis' eyes glazed over, lust filling him to the brim. Harry, although under the influence, still had the grace to blush and stop stroking himself.

"Don't stop," Louis said firmly. "I wanna watch. Don't come though. That's me job."

Harry still hesitated, looking sheepish.

"Come on Hazza. I like it," Louis murmured as he sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes appreciating every bit of Harry's exposed body.

So Harry began to stroke again, closing his eyes both because of his slight embarrassment and pleasure. After a short time, Louis began to undress. His own cock was dripping with pre-come, seeing Harry's hard nipples, his balls drawn up in the sac, indicating that Harry was close to orgasm, that magnificent cock of his, throbbing and purple with engorged blood.

Harry was making his little noises, eating Louis up with his eyes, once he'd opened them again. Harry laid down on the bed next to Harry. Harry got into his space in half a second. He was all over him, still stroking his cock. Louis, at some point, had stopped denying to himself that he loved Harry always touching him.

Louis shot forward suddenly, his mouth engulfing Harry's dick. Harry looked down to see his cock disappearing into Louis' mouth. There was absolutely no sight as arousing to Harry as this one. And Louis was voracious, sucking noisily. Harry's buttocks began to clench. Louis was so damn good at sucking his cock. He was encouraging Harry to thrust again. He seemed to love that. So when Harry let go of his load, he kept pumping right through his orgasm, because Louis' mouth continued to do wonderful things.

"Fuck," said Harry softly.

Louis liked that word coming out of Harry's mouth, knowing he was responsible for it.

"Brilliant, just fooking brilliant," praised Louis when Harry was at last finished. "Now give me some head."

Harry's eyes brightened, and he seemed to find that remark irresistible. He attacked Louis, getting between his knees and acting like a starving man. Louis' cock was stuffed down his throat in no time, and he moaned in ecstasy. Louis was thinking, through his fog of lust, how lucky he was that Harry enjoyed sex as much as he did. He'd never been able to understand why, all those years with women had never satisfied him. Now he knew. He was just waiting for Louis to come into his life. Harry's thick, juicy lips felt glorious, his wet mouth eager, his throat hugging Louis' cock, urging, coaxing, then _demanding_ that Louis let go and bask in Harry's treatment. No one could bring the animal out in Louis like Harry.

"Suck it, Harry," Louis began to cheer Harry on, causing even more arousal in both of them. Arousal that was topping out as they writhed around on the bed, desperate for each other, grasping blindly, vowing silently to never let each other go.

"Ahhh! Oh Harry! The rhythm of Louis' seed squirting down Harry's throat was like a celebration. Harry eagerly swallowed it, still groaning, longing for even more. Ever more. After he'd coaxed the last drop out, they flopped down on top of each other, smiling as if on drugs, high on life.

Well, Harry _was_ high on Chardonnay, and Louis, feeling a little jealous, took a couple of hearty slugs. Harry raised his eyebrows, Louis style.

"What?" asked Louis with faux attitude.

"Nothin.' You just surprised me, drinkin' it."

"Oh, as if you _didn't_ surprise me? You little sneak. Disappearin' on me, comin' in here to get buzzed before I was done down in the valley."

"Well, it was interestin,' yeah?"

"Interestin' is an understatement, Styles, you're full of surprises at every turn, and I love it."

Louis got serious then. He cleared his throat, adjusted himself on the bed, climbing off Harry and turning onto his side to meet his eyes. Harry did the same, sensing something significant was afloat.

"Do you know our time here is nearly expired Curly?"

In the lad's eyes Louis saw silent contemplation, worry lines forming in his brow, a slight tipping of his head. These things told Louis all he needed to know. Harry was calculating, figuring it out. And Louis knew the precise moment Harry came to the realization that he was correct.

The days of working with Mystic Thunder had added up. The days had slipped by . . . the heated nights too. There were only a few days remaining. Unfortunately, Louis didn't know exactly how many days because he hadn't wanted to face that actuality. But in any case, they'd have to leave soon. Louis was tempted . . . Oh God, how he was tempted—to just extend it again. And it would have been easy enough. The ranch was slow right now, Johnny could be trusted completely to take over Louis' job. But Louis knew they had to face reality, and the ridicule that was to come, at least from some people. Not the other ranch hands, and not Nora or Cookie. But acquaintances of Louis' who didn't have a clue he was gay. There would be shock and there might be open distain. Louis was more than willing to face up to it and stand proud. He knew Harry would too, without question or pause. Because Louis loved him, and believed in him. Wanted to share his life with him.

"Yeah . . . " Harry coaxed Louis out of his mind's meanderings. "I guess I didn't want to think about it, but we've been here a while."

"A long while. I think it's been nearly a month." Hell, Louis didn't even know what day of the month it was, and he'd bet Harry didn't either. They knew what day of the week it was only after considering it for a beat or two.

"My horse. My horse isn't broke yet. Not all the way," Harry said, a flash of hope shining in his eyes that Louis would agree his horse needed more time.

?No, he isn't. But most of the mustangs I took back in prior years were only halter broke. Your horse is nearly green broke now." That shot Louis down.

Louis quickly suggested a ride, Harry on Mystic Thunder, and himself on Joaquin. All over the valley, without getting close to the bachelor herd Mystic Thunder had been part of. He didn't want the mustang losing his mind with wanting to get back to the herd, and dumping Harry along the way. They'd come too far for that. And besides, the mustang was not yet castrated, and that would make things even more hazardous.

This perked Harry up, who had been looking like he was dismayed. He didn't want to give this up, and Louis couldn't blame him. But they needed to get back to the others, to the way of life they'd chosen, and Harry needed to realize he could do it. The first day would be the hardest. As if in answer to Louis' thoughts, Harry spoke up.

"I wonder what the others will think of us. Even though Johnny, Niall and Leo know. What will Nick think? And Cookie and Nora?"

"We'll find out when we get there. And I have a hunch they all know by now anyway," Louis waggled his eyebrows. And I'd be willin' to bet they'll all be happy for us."

As Harry rode Mystic Thunder out of his corral for the first time, he was past nervous. If the horse got away from him, all this would be for naught. But at the same time, he couldn't let the horse sense his fear. So he attempted to ride as if he was on Saber. Confident and relaxed. It worked. His horse listened to him as much as he had done in the corral, but was also being more alert, He knew this area well, and Harry hoped he wasn't looking for, or trying to smell the herd.

There were a couple of moments when Harry thought the mustang was going to do something that would unseat him, but he circled him as Louis had shown him, and the horse settled right down. The pride within Harry was trying to burst out of his chest. He was riding a wild mustang, and a gorgeous one at that, even still a stud, and he was in complete control. He felt a sense of power he'd never had before, and also a great sense of accomplishment.

They rode for a couple of hours, and then Louis mentioned the herd would be coming soon to get their daily drink of water, and Harry was almost too happy to go back to the corral. He'd been in a sort of trance, enjoying every step, and the mustang's trot had been smooth and not a bit jarring. But Harry sure didn't need a herd of stallions to come along and cause a ruckus that could end up badly.

As they finished putting their horses away and feeding them, Louis put his hands on both of Harry's shoulders, facing him with a patient, compassionate look on his face.

"He's ready," he said. "Mystic Thunder is ready to go to his new home-the ranch. That is where you'll teach him all about cows, roping and all the ranch chores. He's green now, but he'll learn fast. He'll go home with us, Harry," This was Louis' way of making sure Harry understood that they would be leaving soon. He wanted it to sink in. He knew how much Harry loved this place, and being alone with him, but he also had to be reminded to be practical. They couldn't stay here forever, much as Louis wanted to. Harry had seemed disinclined to talk about it, cleverly avoiding the subject when he could. "But not before we stay just a few more days, alone together," Louis added to give incentive.

Louis' look was sincere, and full of love, and Harry's response was good.

For now they could live as they had been. All the privacy and intimacy they wanted was at their fingertips.

But then they'd be going home.

 _Home._


	64. Chapter 64

The next two days were, in fact, very taxing for both of them. Harry could only eat soup, and he normally had a healthy appetite, so he was hungry much of the time. Good thing the cabin was stocked with dozens of cans of soup. Louis asked Niall to bring some more the next time he came out.

Niall was compassionate and sympathetic, as he always was when someone was under the weather or emotionally afflicted in any way. He was a ready and willing ear, always seeming to come up with the right words for the occasion.

"Jesus, I bet it hurts like a mofo," he said when Louis first told him about Harry's accident. Harry had to school himself not to laugh. "Aspirin seem to be keepin' a handle on it. I give it to him every four hours," commented Louis. "Tomorrow we're gonna have him try solid food and see how he does. Tongues have a lot of blood supply, so I suspect it'll heal fast, and he'll be fine."

"Doesn't need any stitches?" asked Niall, his forehead wrinkling in concern.

"I don't think so. The cut really isn't that bad. Here, have a look at it," Louis indicated Harry should open his mouth. Harry felt a little too much like a horse that Louis was thinking about buying. Harry opened wide, and Niall hesitated before peering inside, gulping down a loud swallow, apparently apprehensive about what he might see. Louis grinned at this. Niall could castrate calves without flinching, but seemed almost queasy about seeing a bitten tongue.

Niall grimaced just a little bit. "Looks a little ugly . . . but also looks like it's already almost closed over," he remarked quickly, noting Louis' warning glare. He knew Louis didn't want Harry to be distressed.

"Yeah, just twenty-four hours and it's healed more than two-thirds, I'd say." Louis looked satisfied at Harry's tongue's progress. "The human body is amazing."

Tomorrow night . . . Louis had plans for tomorrow night. They would be able to kiss, albeit carefully, Harry could have a normal meal, and then Louis would tell him he had to wait another day to participate, but Louis was going to make sure Harry was well satisfied. It was going to be all about Harry. This thought was making Louis so eager that he had to change the subject for fear he'd get hard. Harry could make him sprout a boner in a matter of seconds. He knew that from plenty of experience.

Louis did help Harry out with a hand job that night, but he cautioned him not to get too excited and thus increase blood flow too much. "As if I can control that," laughed Harry. Louis had given Harry permission to start talking—carefully, again. So far, no bleeding had occurred.

"Well, if you think you'll get too excited . . . " Louis teased. Harry wasn't about to argue.

"I'll take it as easy as I'm able to," he quickly replied, and that was being honest. They accomplished it without incident, Harry not being able to stifle his moans. When he recovered, he had gone for Louis, but Louis shook his head and blocked Harry's hand. "Not yet, babe. You've had enough for tonight. Tomorrow night I'm pleasurin' you, so get used to the idea."

Harry started to protest, but Louis cut him off. "Look, day after tomorrow we can go back to whatever we want to do. I just want to be sure you're good to go. It's better than havin' it break open again, and push us back for another two or three days, yeah?"

Harry reluctantly agreed. It was going to a very long twenty-four hours of excruciatingly held back desire, and he wondered how they'd govern themselves. But he really had no choice in the matter if he wanted to avoid further bleeding, and possible sutures as a result.

"Wonder if you need antibiotics?" Louis was more or less talking to himself. "I know your body is equipped to handle it on its own, but infection does worry me. I have a full course of pills in me saddlebags. A broad spectrum antibiotic. Amoxicillin."

"What _don't_ you carry in your saddlebags?" Harry asked, amazed. He didn't see how Louis fit it all into that limited space.

"Not much," admitted Louis with a teasing smile. "You have to be prepared with livestock, and if you aren't close to the ranch, you need to carry things that might mean the difference between life and death. I also have a thermometer, dewormer, tiny flashlight, epinephrine, antibacterial cream, stuff to keep flies off wounds . . ." Louis was going to continue, but Harry held up a hand.

"You're gonna have to show me the inside of your saddlebags sometime. I'm dyin' to see how you pack all that shit . . . I mean, stuff."

Louis faked a huge gasp. "I tell ya, you've been around me too much. You're startin' to get a dirty mouth."

Harry stopped talking because his tongue felt weird. It was swollen and tender of course, but it also tingled, and that got worse when he talked. "Me tongue's tinglin.'"

"That's just cause it's healin.' It's actually a good sign."

"Feels like a vibrator's inside it."

Louis laughed. "Well, we might have some fun with that!"

Harry smacked him on the arm. "Didn't mean it as a joke," he complained. "Hot blooded, you are."

"Yeah, hot blooded, cold hearted," Louis returned.

Harry shook his head with conviction. " _Not_ cold hearted. Not at all. Not the new Louis." Louis liked the sound of that. Harry had transformed him into someone who saw the world, and the people in it, differently. He was so much more tolerant now. Harry had brought out his softness, and he felt it was probably the _real_ him all along—he'd just been restrained, duty-bound and self-denying.

Harry kept accidentally hitting his tongue on his teeth, especially when eating, and it hurt. And he felt like he had to practice extra caution when chewing, afraid he'd cause more damage.

Louis, coming to a conclusion of what he would do, decided to open the bottle of pills that he'd brought inside, offering Harry one. "One of these three times a day until they're gone will insure you don't get an infection," he explained. Harry obediently popped the pill, and Louis felt a thousand times better about the situation. "Better safe than sorry," he murmured.

The next day, Louis was busy cutting wood again while Harry rolled his eyes. They had enough firewood for about forty cabins at this point. After that, Louis was inspecting the fence that Mystic Thunder was in, making sure it was still solid in every way. It would be a shame to lose him now due to escape.

"We're gonna have to get him castrated when we get back to the ranch," Louis explained.

"Oh, I know that. Geldings are so much easier to handle, and stallions aren't predictable."

"That's right." Louis was glad Harry wasn't going to give him grief on that, but he'd been pretty sure Harry would agree with him.

After Harry had ridden Mystic Thunder, unsaddled him and groomed him, he uncharacteristically and mysteriously had gone back to the cabin not long afterward, something he never did. He always wanted to be by Louis' side, no matter what Louis was doing, so the wheels in Louis' head started turning. He finished maybe half an hour or forty minutes later and decided to go see what Harry was up to.

As he entered the cabin, he saw Harry on the bed, all sweet, soft reception. Smiling, giddy and a little . . . loopy. What the hell? He was also naked. Confused, Louis panned the room, looking for clues. He didn't have to look far. There sat the bottle of Chardonnay. Oh . . . Louis' cock stood up in the blinking of an eye, as Louis remembered how affectionate Harry was when he was drinking. Ten times more than normal. And this was what Louis had been craving. It seemed they hadn't been intimate in weeks when in fact, it had only been days. Louis was starving for Harry, so hungry he wanted to growl.

Then Louis spied some movement under the sheet that partly covered Harry's nude body. Louis yanked the sheet back to see Harry slowly and sensually playing with himself. If that wasn't the most erotic sight! He'd never seen Harry masturbate, and his interest was held securely.

Louis' eyes glazed over, lust filling him to the brim. Harry, although under the influence, still had the grace to blush and stop stroking himself.

"Don't stop," Louis said firmly. "I wanna watch. Don't come though. That's me job."

Harry still hesitated, looking sheepish.

"Come on Hazza. I like it," Louis murmured as he sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes appreciating every bit of Harry's exposed body.

So Harry began to stroke again, closing his eyes both because of his slight embarrassment and pleasure. After a short time, Louis began to undress. His own cock was dripping with pre-come, seeing Harry's hard nipples, his balls drawn up in the sac, indicating that Harry was close to orgasm, that magnificent cock of his, throbbing and purple with engorged blood.

Harry was making his little noises, eating Louis up with his eyes, once he'd opened them again. Louis laid down on the bed next to Harry. Harry got into his space in half a second. He was all over him, still stroking his own cock. Louis, at some point, had stopped denying to himself that he loved Harry as close to him as possible.

Louis shot forward suddenly, his mouth engulfing Harry's dick. Harry looked down to see his cock disappearing into Louis' mouth. There was absolutely no sight as arousing to Harry as this one. And Louis was voracious, sucking noisily. Harry's buttocks began to clench, his breathing heavy and labored . Louis was so damn good at sucking his cock. He was encouraging Harry to thrust again. He seemed to love that. So when Harry let go of his load, he kept pumping right through his orgasm, because Louis' mouth continued to do wonderful things.

"Fuck," said Harry softly.

Louis liked that word coming out of Harry's mouth, knowing he was responsible for it.

"Brilliant, just fooking brilliant," praised Louis when Harry was at last finished. "Now give me some head." It was supposed to be all about Harry tonight, but Louis knew his tongue was extremely unlikely to start bleeding again now.

Harry's eyes brightened, and he seemed to find that remark irresistible. He attacked Louis, getting between his knees and acting like a starving man. Louis' cock was stuffed down his throat in no time, and he moaned in ecstasy. Louis was thinking, through his fog of lust, how lucky he was that Harry enjoyed sex as much as he did. He'd never been able to understand why all those years with women had never satisfied him. Now he knew. He was just waiting for Harry to come into his life. Harry's thick, juicy lips felt glorious, his wet mouth eager, his throat hugging Louis' cock, urging, coaxing, then _demanding_ that Louis let go and bask in Harry's ministrations. No one could bring the animal out in Louis like Harry.

"Suck it, Harry," Louis began to cheer Harry on, causing even more arousal in both of them. Arousal that was topping out as they writhed around on the bed, desperate for each other, grasping blindly, vowing silently to never let each other go.

"Ahhh! Oh Harry! The rhythm of Louis' seed squirting down Harry's throat was like a celebration. Harry eagerly swallowed it, still groaning, longing for even more. Ever more. After he'd coaxed the last drop out, they flopped down on top of each other, smiling as if on drugs, high on life.

Well, Harry _was_ high on Chardonnay, and Louis, feeling a little jealous, took a couple of hearty slugs. Harry raised his eyebrows, Louis style.

"What?" asked Louis with faux attitude.

"Nothin.' You just surprised me, drinkin' it."

"Oh, as if you _didn't_ surprise me? You little sneak. Disappearin' on me, comin' in here to get buzzed before I was done down in the valley."

"Well, it was interestin,' yeah?"

"Interestin' is an understatement, Styles, you're full of surprises at every turn, and I love it."

Louis got serious then. He cleared his throat, adjusted himself on the bed, climbing off Harry and turning onto his side to meet his eyes. Harry did the same, sensing something significant was afloat.

"First, let me see your tongue." Harry obediently stuck it out. Louis grinned with satisfaction and gave Harry a thumbs-up. Back to being serious.

"Do you know our time here is nearly expired Curly?"

In the lad's eyes Louis saw silent contemplation, worry lines forming in his brow, a slight tipping of his head. These things told Louis all he needed to know. Harry was calculating, figuring it out. And Louis knew the precise moment Harry came to the realization that he was correct.

The days of working with Mystic Thunder had added up. The time had slipped by . . . There were only a few days remaining. Unfortunately, Louis didn't know exactly how many days because he hadn't wanted to face that actuality. But in any case, they'd have to leave soon. Louis was tempted . . . Oh God, how he was tempted—to just extend it again. And it would have been easy enough. The ranch was slow right now, Johnny could be trusted completely to take over Louis' job. But Louis knew they had to face reality, and the ridicule that was to come, at least from some people. Not the other ranch hands, and not Nora or Cookie. But acquaintances of Louis' and business contacts who didn't have a clue he was gay. There would be shock and there might be open distain. Louis was more than willing to face up to it and stand proud. He knew Harry would too, without question or pause. And Louis loved him and believed in him. Wanted to share his life with him.

"Yeah . . . " Harry coaxed Louis out of his mind's meanderings. "I guess I didn't want to think about it, but we've been here a while."

"A long while. I think it's been nearly a month." Hell, Louis didn't even know what day of the month it was, and he'd bet Harry didn't either. They knew what day of the week it was only after considering it for a beat or two.

"Me horse. Me horse isn't broke yet. Not all the way," Harry said, a flash of hope shining in his eyes that Louis would agree his horse needed more time. And that would buy Harry more time to be alone with Louis.

"No, he isn't. But most of the mustangs I took back in prior years were only halter broke. Your horse is nearly green broke now." That shot Harry down.

Louis quickly suggested a ride, Harry on Mystic Thunder, and himself on Joaquin. All over the valley, without getting close to the bachelor herd Mystic Thunder had been part of. He didn't want the mustang losing his mind with wanting to get back to the herd, and dumping Harry along the way. They'd come too far for that. And besides, the mustang was not yet castrated, and that would make things even more hazardous.

This perked Harry up, who had been looking like he was distressed. He didn't want to give this up, and Louis couldn't blame him. But they needed to get back to the others, to the way of life they'd chosen, and Harry needed to realize he could do it. The first day would be the hardest. As if in answer to Louis' thoughts, Harry spoke up.

"I wonder what the others will think of us. Even though Johnny, Niall and Leo know. What will Nick think? And Cookie and Nora?"

"We'll find out when we get there. And I have a hunch they all know by now anyway," Louis waggled his eyebrows. And I'd be willin' to bet they'll all be happy for us."

As Harry rode Mystic Thunder out of his corral for the first time, he was past nervous. If the horse got away from him, all this would be for naught. But at the same time, he couldn't let the horse sense his fear. So he attempted to ride as if he was on Saber. Confident and relaxed. It worked. His horse listened to him as much as he had in the corral, but was also being more alert, He knew this area well, and Harry hoped he wasn't looking for, or trying to smell the herd.

There were a couple of moments when Harry thought the mustang was going to do something that would unseat him, but he circled him as Louis had shown him, and the horse settled right down. The pride within Harry was trying to burst out of his chest. He was riding a wild mustang, and a gorgeous one at that, even still a stud, and he was complete control. He felt a sense of power he'd never had before, and also a great sense of accomplishment.

They rode for a couple of hours, and then Louis mentioned the herd would be coming soon to get their daily drink of water, and Harry was almost too happy to go back to the corral. He'd been in a sort of trance, enjoying every step, and the mustang's trot had been smooth and not a bit jarring. But Harry sure didn't need a herd of stallions to come along and cause a ruckus that could end up badly.

As they finished putting their horses away and feeding them, Louis put his hands on both of Harry's shoulders, facing him with a patient, compassionate look on his face.

"He's ready," he said. "Mystic Thunder is ready to go to his new home-the ranch. That is where you'll teach him all about cows, roping and all the ranch chores. He's green now, but he'll learn fast. He'll go home with us, Harry," This was Louis' way of making sure Harry absolutely understood that they would be leaving soon. He wanted it to sink in. He knew how much Harry loved this place, and being alone with him, but he also had to be reminded to be practical. They couldn't stay here forever, much as Louis wanted to. Harry had seemed disinclined to talk about it, cleverly avoiding the subject when he could. "But not before we stay just a few more days, alone together," Louis added to give incentive.

Louis' look was sincere, and full of love, and Harry's response was good.

For now they could live as they had been. All the privacy and intimacy they wanted was at their fingertips.

But then they'd be going home.

 _Home._


	65. Chapter 65

Riding and working with Mystic Thunder by day, talking, cuddling and making love by night, Louis and Harry didn't want to see this end. But they made the best of it by making sure they had fun, and lots of laughs. The chill was creeping in; the weather was changing fast. It was so cold that it was difficult to bathe in the creek. They still did, but got out of the water quickly, drying off even faster, and then having a race back to the cabin, playfully shoving each other and giggling the whole way. Warming each other up after getting back inside the cabin was more than enough reward for braving the chilly creek.

Harry still had misgivings about taking Mystic Thunder away from this valley, the only home the horse had known since his birth. One thing that helped was that the mustang and Saber had forged a close friendship. If it wasn't for that, Harry would have asked Louis if he thought they were doing the right thing. But in his heart he already knew they were. Mystic Thunder was paying less and less attention to the herd when they came to drink from the creek. The herd he was formerly a part of. He used to watch them file by with head high, trying to see between the bushes and/or the top of the corral, whinnying his heart out. Now he barely glanced in that direction when they showed up. And it delighted Harry when he began to come right up to the corral fence when Harry and Louis were in the area. He wanted to be petted. He had lost all his fear of them, and was a friendly, docile horse that still also had spirit.

Louis had taken Harry for another ride, and this time Louis had ridden Saber. Saber loved to run; he must have been descended from the bloodline of Arabians that were raced across the desert, because he was very fast. Joaquin was fast for short distances, as is usual for an appaloosa with quarter horse blood, but Saber had endurance, which Arabs are known for, having been bred for it through those specific bloodlines for hundreds of years. Louis suggested a gallop, making Harry's heart skip wildly. Would he be able to control his horse should the animal get intoxicated by the speed? Would his horse keep running, and somewhere along the way, decide to rejoin his herd? Harry didn't see that ending well with him being on his back. Harry also knew Saber was capable of getting drunk on speed and losing his head, even though he'd been working with him on it. Harry wasn't worried much about Saber though, because Louis was very effective with getting a horse to listen to him, and he knew Louis would be able to stop him. But would he be able to stop Mystic Thunder? Only one way to find out . . . he had to trust Louis, as he always did.

Louis felt this was necessary for Harry to gain the confidence he needed to ride his new horse. Louis certainly had faith in Harry or he wouldn't have suggested a gallop. Harry just didn't give himself enough credit. Louis saw Harry's trepidation in the set of his jaw, the tension in his fingers on the reins.

Louis started out at a trot, watching Harry to be sure all was well. Then he let Saber go into a slow canter. The mustang ran right beside Saber, acting as mild mannered and obedient as if he'd been in the corral. Louis then took things up a notch. Or rather, several notches. He let Saber extend himself into a gallop. They were soon galloping at a speed that would have put the fear of God into most people. Harry could feel the coiled power, the dynamism between his legs. The horse was rough, tough, and raw. He knew how to negotiate the uneven ground because he'd been doing it since the day he was born. He was as sure-footed as the day was long. When he ran, he felt to Harry as if he was going to just keep going faster and faster, until he was truly flying.

 _My Pegasus_

But the strength of the muscles beneath him intimidated Harry. The great leaps the horse took were phenomenal. In a few seconds, he had left Saber behind, and continued to accelerate. Harry began to pull back on the reins and lean back slightly.

"No! Let him go, Harry!" he heard Louis cry. Harry watched the greenery, the rocks, the bushes, go by so fast that they were nothing but a blur. Louis must have an awful lot of confidence in him. Harry remembered how he hadn't been able to stop Saber when they had corralled the mustangs—how would he possibly stop Mystic Thunder? It took everything he had not to haul back on the reins to try to slow the mustang. Adrenaline was coursing through him, pumping blood with a loud hum in his ears, yet at the same time it was exhilarating. Harry was both frightened and enthusiastic. High on the speed, just the way the horse was. But also wondering what would happen should the horse trip or step into a hole and fall while going that fast. Or buck. He didn't want his mind going there, so instead he concentrated on the way the horse flowed along with his feet barely touching the ground. He kept the reins slack. He knew the horse was probably starved to run fast and stretch his legs like this after being confined in that corral for so long,

"Direct him toward the creek!" Louis' voice cut through the air. Good idea, thought Harry. They'd been galloping in the direction of the back of the valley, and the herd was no doubt staying somewhere back there. By reining Mystic Thunder toward the creek, they'd be going the other way. Why hadn't he thought of that? He'd been in a state of suspended animation, while also feeling insignificant, frail and weak compared to the rolling power under his seat.

Louis always kept his wits about him. The only times Harry had seen Louis really shaken up was at the barn party when the drunken man had come onto him, when that calf had almost drowned in the creek at the ranch, and when Harry had been thrown by Mystic Thunder. He now realized Louis had been more concerned for _him_ than for the calf. For just a second, Harry had seen the anxiety of not knowing if Harry was alright on the rancher's face before Louis had carefully suppressed it.

Mystic Thunder reined easily to the left. Harry hadn't expected that, as the faster a horse is moving, generally, the harder he is to turn, especially with a green horse like this. But the pinto remembered all the hours Harry had spent training him to always give to the rein.

They were at the creek in what seemed like seconds, Louis and Saber still well behind them. Should he try to pull him up now?

"Circle him down, Harry!" yelled Louis. Harry knew Louis was a fan of bringing down a green horses' speed slowly, and thus curbing the horse's excitement at the same time. Harry was familiar with the maneuver, and he executed it well.

Forced to reduce his speed because of the tightening circles, Mystic Thunder at last slowed to a trot, and then eventually a walk when the circles were reduced too much for him to go any faster. Harry's face was glowing. He felt the pride of achievement. He'd broken and trained this wild horse! As Harry brought Mystic Thunder to a stop, Louis, with a face almost as bursting with pride as Harry's, pulled up beside him.

"Now we know you have control," Louis was laughing, he was so pleased. "He didn't get away from you, and he turned, and did just what you wanted. No bucking or resistance either!"

They dismounted, not able to resist coming into each other's arms in celebration. They'd not only caught the beautiful horse Harry had so admired, but had also made a riding horse out of him!

"Louis, love. If it weren't for you . . . "

"None of that!" scolded Louis. "You did almost all the work by yourself. I just stood by. After you knew how to proceed, well, it was all your doin!'"

Harry didn't argue. He was too high on euphoria right now. They kissed, and it was a kiss that told of their elation. Hungry mouths devouring, sucking, demanding.

Afterward, "I'm tickled, Haz," Louis said simply.

"I am too, Tommo."

They mounted and walked back to the corral, sitting tall in their saddles.

"Poor Saber is decently fast, but he had no chance of catching up to Mystic Thunder," smiled Louis. "That horse is faster than Joaquin, and I didn't think many horses were!" Harry glowed some more, his cheeks shiny, eyes full of wonder.

After they'd unsaddled their horses and climbed out of the corral, they kissed again, and Harry turned fierce, pushing Louis against the corral fence, something that had Louis burning inside. Harry in charge was the ultimate turn on. It was a flame, flaring bright between them, and it just kept getting hotter and hotter and sweeter and sweeter until Louis could stand it no longer.

"Give me head. Right here. Please . . . need it." Louis said in a broken rasp, his inhibitions dropping away and disappearing entirely.

Delighted, Harry unzipped Louis' jeans in a flash, almost as if he was afraid Louis would change his mind. How he loved to suck Louis. He loved his taste, his texture. He loved everything about it, and doing that alone was enough to get him off. As he went to his knees and pulled Louis' cock free and into the chilly air, Louis' hips were already rolling, desperate for Harry's mouth. They were both gasping for breath, the exhilaration of their ride still fresh and intense, making this even more exciting.

Harry sucked him like never before. Louis' cock was rock hard, straining, and flexing against his lips as he opened his mouth wide. Louis looked down to watch as Harry took him down his throat, and he'd never seen anything hotter. Or more erotic. He couldn't get enough of watching; he couldn't get enough of the feeling either. He buried his fingers in Harry's hair, pulling him in closer so he could fuck his mouth. Harry's lips were wet and greedy. He salivated, making his lips slip and slide easily, the combination of that and the friction making Louis feel like he would burst with his voracious need.

Harry stopped now and then, looking up at Louis, smiling, then dipping his head to lick the newly formed drops of pre-come from the tip of Louis' dick, but not continuing past that. Delighted and enchanted, Louis slid his hands underneath Harry's hair again, to the back of his neck and again pulled his face to his cock a little roughly. He _needed_ the stimulation, although the licking was spellbinding all by itself.

Harry's finger found Louis' hole, and he teased it, making Louis' desire burn even brighter. There was an urgency, Harry being enormously turned on that Louis would want him so much to ask for this before they even got to the cabin, Louis equally turned on with the fact that Harry hadn't even hesitated, but instead had acted as if he had been eagerly waiting for something like this—for Louis to ask him.

Louis was exploding into Harry's mouth in very little time. Harry swallowed it all eagerly and hungrily, easing his finger inside Louis to massage his prostate as he came, causing Louis to go a little mad with the steaming pleasure of it, crying out with the magnitude of his orgasm that lasted an eternity.

But then, something changed. Harry was atypically quiet as they walked back to the cabin. Louis was still tingling, and he wrapped his arm around Harry, wanting him to know how happy he'd made him. But something was amiss . . .

Louis couldn't isolate the problem, so he tried to communicate his concerns.

"What's wrong, Curly? Did that upset you . . . out in the open like that?"

"No, no. Not at all. I thought it was one of the most exciting things we've ever done." There was genuine sincerity in Harry's voice, so Louis couldn't imagine what might be wrong.

"Then what is it, love?" he asked gently. "Was I too demanding, too rough?"

"No," and then Harry clammed up, something Harry rarely did. Harry, the one who always had a need to interact, express himself, was oddly silent. Louis was surprised, and more than that. He was concerned, worried. Something had to really be eating at Harry, and he didn't think it had anything to do with what they'd just done. It ran deep, whatever it was, because Harry remained quiet for the balance of their walk, and Louis decided it was best not to press the issue. When Harry was ready to open up to him, he'd let him know.

But hours later, nothing had changed. If only he'd open his mouth! This was getting out of hand. Harry still had not said more than a monotone "yes," "no," and other greatly abbreviated answers to Louis' idle questions and chatter. Louis had flirted, with the intention of building up to giving Harry some mind blowing sexual satisfaction and heartfelt loving, but Harry had not responded. Now this was highly unusual for Harry. He never refused Louis' advances, so something had to be seriously askew.

They ate dinner in near silence, Louis watching Harry's every move, and noting especially how Harry evaded his gaze. Their eyes didn't meet once, and that was totally unheard of. Now Louis was beyond concerned, he was afraid. What was causing Harry to act as if he barely knew him? Louis couldn't think of a thing he'd done or said that would bring this kind of reaction. Especially from Harry, of all people. Sweet Harry, who had said he was in love with him.

"Look," Louis said, after trying unsuccessfully to let this thing wear off. It evidently _wasn't_ wearing off, and something had to give. "Tell me what the fuck I've done, Haz. Be fair to me. Talk to me. I deserve to know what's wrong so I can try to make it right. What're you on to?"

Harry had been doing some indepth, serious contemplating, and it had hit him suddenly, although it had first begun to rear its head on the way back to the cabin. Louis had told him they'd be going back to the ranch soon-probably in only a few days. The reality of the situation was closing in on him, and Harry was bewildered by his own emotions. He wanted to stay here forever with Louis, but of course he couldn't do that. Many other thoughts had started to intrude until it all felt so overwhelmingly negative, so wrong. But he couldn't say any of it to Louis.

How could he go back with Louis and cause Louis to have to face people he did business with? People he'd known most of his life? Face the looks of distaste and maybe even hate, on their faces? When all these years Louis had had a thriving business, buying and selling horses and cattle. Would his business dealings suffer? Or maybe even worse? Would Louis _lose_ his business that was his livelihood because people wouldn't want to deal with a gay man? Would sales plummet? And he, Harry, would be responsible if that happened.

Harry's heart dropped. How could he do that to Louis? Once they came out, there would be no turning back. They would be on a one-way track, and Louis' reputation could be ruined, whether Harry stayed with him or not. The secret would be out.

Harry didn't know how to express his feelings to Louis without making Louis think he didn't want to be with him, wasn't in love with him. Harry needed to be alone to think this over. He could see no solution right now, but maybe if he had some time . . .

"Harry, what the fuck is wrong?" Louis' raised voice carried more hurt than anger. Harry just shook his head sadly, and still wouldn't meet his eyes.

Sullen and morose, Louis didn't press Harry. If Harry didn't want to talk, Louis wasn't going to try to force him. He brooded on the other side of the room, not even sitting down, because he felt like his heart would shatter if he moved at all. It had to be something critical for Harry to be acting like this.

Harry was already making plans to go for a ride alone tomorrow. On Saber, not Mystic Thunder. He didn't have a death wish, and he'd be able to relax and do some serious introspection. He just could not ruin Louis' life. He didn't have it in him to be that selfish, even though he loved Louis more than he ever would have thought possible. That was why he couldn't gaze into Louis' eyes. The hurt grabbed at him ruthlessly every time he even thought about it.

As they spooned that night, Louis alternately held Harry tight against him and caressed his side, trying to let Harry know he wasn't angry with him, and that he still adored him. He got no response, either good or bad, and he knew real loneliness for the first time since they'd gotten together here at the cabin, and at last had fully confessed their feelings for each other. It hurt—oh, how it hurt. He was losing Harry-he could feel it.

Harry's mind was working overtime all night. He couldn't be the cause of people in town taunting Louis, talking about him behind his back, laughing and sneering at him, and, worst of all, turning him away when he had livestock to sell.

Harry loved Louis deeply, wanted to stay to stay with him . . . but it wasn't possible. Louis represented leadership, toughness and resiliency to the people he knew. They expected him to be a cookie cutter of his father. People who lived in Texas were generally like that; very set in their ways. They had no tolerance for certain things, and Harry knew that one of those things was gay men. He couldn't shackle Louis to a life where he was no longer accepted, and so Harry decided he had to do something drastic. He had to leave.

By morning, Harry had a plan. It might be a rather mad and dodgy plan in other people's eyes, but it was the only one that would enable him to set Louis free. He would ride back to the ranch on Saber. He didn't know exactly how long it would take, but he knew the way, and he could take packaged food and water in his saddlebags. Once he got there, he would hand Saber over, get into his Rover, and go. He had no idea where he would go. He just knew he had to set Louis free. He'd have to give up both his horses that meant so much to him, but there was no other way. He planned to get up early the following morning, hoping Louis would stay asleep long enough for him to sneak away. He had to do this quickly and cleanly, or he'd never succeed.

When Louis arose, Harry pretended to still be asleep while the rancher had his coffee outside, and Harry quickly gathered water bottles and jerky, cookies, crackers, cheese sticks and bread and crammed all he could get into his saddlebags which were affixed to his saddle. They always brought their saddles in at the end of the day so no night creature would chew on them. All he had to do tomorrow morning was feed and saddle Saber and vanish. His heart was splitting with the sorrow that spread itself over him like a dark cloud, but if he was to be fair to Louis, this was what he had to do. Louis would never admit to Harry being a negative in his life. Harry knew Louis loved him, and would refuse to give him up. So he was left with no other choice but to take drastic measures to save Louis' good name.

The entire day, Louis kept after Harry, appealing, niggling, pestering him, and finally, practically begging him to listen to reason.

"Why won't you acknowledge me, Harry?" he voice was cracking, but he didn't care. "I'm fuckin' in love with you, and I think you owe me an explanation for your behavior. I thought you loved me too."

Harry couldn't reply to that. If he did he knew he'd go to pieces. So he acted sullen and peevish, not knowing how else to act to keep Louis at bay. He wasn't having much success though. As the hours passed, Louis was rapidly becoming angry. He'd done nothing to receive this kind of treatment from his lover. His anger was hurt in disguise, because he couldn't very well fall to his knees and plead with Harry.

"Damn it! Don't I deserve some clarification here? Haven't I proven to you how I feel?" Louis sighed when Harry remained clammed up and dead set against talking to him.

Harry went for a ride by himself on Saber, but otherwise they didn't do anything else that day. The hay and water didn't need to be replenished until tomorrow, so they left Mystic Thunder alone. Later on, Harry sat and looked out over the valley, Louis pacing and smoking, wondering if he should throw his arms around Harry or punch him in the jaw. He knew he'd never punch him though, no matter what Harry did. He couldn't lay a harsh hand on the lad, even though he badly needed some sense knocked into him. He just wished he could sort out what had caused this terrible, ominous change.

The next morning, very early, Louis finally fell asleep because he'd been awake most of the night before, and Harry seized the opportunity, slipping out of the cabin, and walking down to the valley, feeding and then saddling Saber, and riding away without a sound except for the horse's soft footfalls on the earth. Harry had a jacket, raincoat, and several warm changes of clothes. He took a last, sad look at Mystic Thunder in the corral with Joaquin, and an especially lingering look at the cabin that held the love of his life as he rode away . . .


	66. Chapter 66

Harry could hardly see for the tears that filled his eyes. He kept swiping at them, but they kept coming, flowing down his cheeks in unruly streams. And so things were blurry most of the time, but Harry didn't care. He didn't want to bother with anything but looking straight ahead as best he could and getting to his destination.

He had no idea how long it would take to ride to the ranch, but he really didn't care. He'd started out with nothing, and he'd end with nothing. He'd leave the ranch, drive off in his Rover, and be right back where he started last spring, and his memories of Louis would haunt him forever. Realistically, he knew that. And yet he had to do it.

He had no plans and no idea how he would survive. He could always drive back to California, but that was only a trivial, passing thought. He wasn't concerned with it at the moment. Who cared? Louis was in the forefront of his mind, and he was really all Harry cared about. All he could see was Louis' brilliant aqua blue eyes, the special smiles he kept stashed away just for Harry, that bad ass walk of his, his tender embrace, the way he made love to Harry. The images wouldn't vacate his mind. They had a stronghold on him, and the grip they had on his heart burned and ached like claws dragging and digging until holes were ripped into it.

How had this all happened? How had he allowed himself to get so close to Louis, to fall in love with him? He hadn't been using his brain, that was it. If he'd thought it over instead of only thinking of himself; of the need, the want and eventually the love, he would have given Louis a wide berth, and kept it that way. A working relationship only, not allowing those wispy, magical bits of dreams to invade his thoughts. Dreams that had actually, incredibly come true.

Now he'd fucked things up so badly that the damage would never be undone. He'd have to live with the memories, and just hope he hadn't hurt Louis a fraction of how much he, himself was hurting.

Louis woke up around seven-thirty, and not finding Harry beside him, he assumed the lad was outside, drinking his morning coffee. He wondered how he should approach him this morning. How could he reach out to him in a way that Harry would know how sincere he was? How could Harry _not_ know it, anyway? But he'd hurt the curly haired lad somehow, and all he wanted in the world was to somehow undo it. He'd think of something . . .

When he didn't see Harry in his usual spot, Louis went to the window to see if he could see Harry at the corral with Mystic Thunder. No . . . he wasn't there. Perhaps he'd gone for a ride for some more alone time, to think over whatever it was that was absorbing him.

Louis went to the creek to wash up and brush his teeth before heading over to the corral. He came to a grinding half when he saw only Joaquin and Mystic Thunder there. There was no sign of Harry or Saber, but Louis told himself Harry was probably riding around the valley, out of sight. Something dark nagged at Louis, but he couldn't put a name to it. Something didn't feel right. He felt a sense of urgency, and so he saddled Joaquin and decided he'd ease his mind and find Harry. He wouldn't bother him-he'd just make sure he was alright, and then go occupy himself elsewhere, unless Harry wanted his company.

But Louis couldn't find Harry, and the longer he looked, the more uneasy he became. By the time he'd covered most of the valley, he began to get frantic. Waves of panic began to wash over him like cold water, making the fear more dense by the moment. He rode Joaquin at a run back to the cabin to look inside. He'd had no reason to look around him when he'd left the cabin earlier, especially with there really being no place to hide, and he was certain he'd have noticed if Harry had been inside.

But now . . . he began to see things that had his heart hammering. Harry's clothes-several shirts were missing, a couple pairs of pants, a jacket, raincoat, and when Louis yanked the cupboard doors open, he saw non-perishable and packaged food also missing. He gasped without a sound, a quiet desperation steadily building. Soon, his heart was in his throat.

Harry was gone! He'd taken Saber and left! What in the fuck?

"Oh God, what do I do?" Louis said aloud to the empty room of the cabin, swinging around wildly to look out of the window again in disbelief. He wrung his hands and yanked at his hair that was getting long on the back of his neck, he stomped the floor as he paced around, not knowing what to do, what to think. There was only one thing he knew for sure. _Harry was gone._ He'd left Louis.

Louis slammed out of the cabin door, not knowing which way to ride. He looked for hoof prints, but he was no tracker. There were a lot of hoofprints everywhere, but he wasn't much good at telling how fresh they were. Harry had fanciful thoughts that Louis could see in the dark, and that he was Superman, and right now, in this situation, he wished he had those abilities. No, it wasn't a situation. It was a _crisis._

A footstep behind him brought him up short, whipping his head to the side, jerking it to look over his shoulder, his breathing seized, hoping against hope that it was Harry.

No . . . _Niall._ Louis sighed deeply and loudly, in utter disappointment, and he didn't even try to hide it. Niall saw immediately that something was terribly wrong.

"Lou, tell me what's wrong?" Already, there was near panic in Niall's voice. He'd never seen this kind of desolate despair or alarm in his boss' eyes.

"Harry's gone," Louis said simply, shoulders slouched.

"Gone?"

"That's what I said. I got up this mornin,' and he was gone. His horse is gone too."

Niall looked befuddled, fearful and uncomfortable. "He's probably just gone for a ride," he offered.

"No, I've been all over the valley. He's not there. Where could he be, Niall? Where could he be?" Louis' eyes were dilated, his chest rose and fell rapidly. He looked so helpless that it made Niall feel useless. Then he saw Joaquin, saddled and standing beside the cabin, waiting patiently. The horse was sweaty. Niall had no doubt Louis had been thorough in his search of the valley.

"Jesus Christ. But we'll find him. Don't worry, Lou. Did you have an argument?"

Louis just shook his head, staring at the sandy soil beneath his feet, wanting to dig the toes of his boots into the sand, but not doing it only because Harry had scolded him for it before. All those months ago. Louis shook his head. Man, Harry had a hell of an influence on him.

"Wanna tell me?" Niall prompted.

Well, Niall already knew they were in a relationship. It wouldn't matter if he told him, Louis reasoned.

"No, we didn't. Everythin' was fine yesterday, and then . . . it was like sommat came over Harry. He wouldn't talk to me. Wouldn't tell me what was wrong. And then this mornin' . . . he was gone."

"So no clues at all?"

"No clues."

Niall, seeing the anguish on Louis' face, in that moment, concluded that his friends had more than just a sexual relationship. The realization dawned on him like he'd slammed into a brick wall. Louis loved Harry! It was evident in every worry line, every bit of tension in Louis' body, in his stern frown that was only barely veiling his frantic state of mind.

And he wasn't hiding anything from Niall. Louis' behavior was so fragile, so unlike the man Niall knew as his boss. Louis was very obviously more than a little concerned about one of his ranch hands going missing. It was clear he was barely able to think straight, so Niall knew he had to try to think for him.

Niall stepped into the cabin, depositing a bunch of bananas on the table. That, of course, made Louis feel even worse. Harry loved his bananas . . . and now he might not be back to eat them.

 _Stop with the negative thoughts!_

"We can look for him. I can ride Joaquin, and you can ride Harry's mustang?" Niall's sentence ended in a question, careful not to appear to be bossy, yet somewhat taking charge because Louis looked like he might collapse if they didn't do something besides stand here and talk about it. Niall knew the rancher needed to take some kind of action.

"Or I'll ride the mustang if you'd rather." Niall was accommodating, reflected Louis, feeling genuine affection for the lad.

"I can ride him. But I don't know where to look! He's nowhere in the valley."

Which direction? _And why? Why did he leave?_

Once Harry pulled himself together enough to function in a fashion, which meant merely guiding his horse, he gained the presence of mind to stay back from the road, where he might be seen. He knew Niall was coming with supplies today, and he didn't want to take any chances. He would stick out like a sore thumb out here. So he rode well back from the road, riding behind bushes whenever it was possible. He had put thought into it and figured he could safely ride Saber twenty miles a day, and not do any harm to his horse. Saber was fit from ranch work, and Harry often covered at least ten to fifteen miles in a day's work from the saddle. Twenty miles would be easy for the horse. As long as he could provide water and food for Saber, he could make it to the Rocking Horse Ranch in two days. He didn't want to exhaust his horse, so he'd have to spend a night out here. He didn't want to ride in the inky darkness anyway. Only one night, yet he recalled when he'd asked Louis about bears, and Louis had confirmed they did inhabit the area. That thought wracked him with a hard shudder.

But he wouldn't think about that now. He needed to focus on making it to the ranch by nightfall tomorrow. Once he reached the ranch, he wished he could just turn Saber out into a corral and leave while the hands were eating dinner, but he knew that he probably wouldn't get away with it. Someone would see him, and even if it was late, Shadow Bear, the ranch dog, was sure to bark a warning. But he'd worry about that when he got there. Right now, he just wanted to concentrate on his journey.

He and Saber had cantered at first, which his horse was happy to do, but after a while, when Harry saw that Louis didn't appear to be following him, he pulled the horse back into a trot, and eventually, into a walk. He didn't want to tire the horse out before they were even halfway there.

The tears came and went, hitting him in sudden rushes, and so did the memories. He didn't want to leave Louis; it was the very last thing he wanted, but he also didn't want to be a burden of embarrassment to Louis. Louis might love him, but after a while, Harry would surely become a liability, and Louis wouldn't know how to gracefully break the relationship off. And Harry couldn't ask anyone to stay with him if they didn't really want to.

With Niall mounted on Joaquin, Louis saddled Mystic Thunder and carefully mounted, taking care not to startle the spirited mustang. The horse was full of beans this morning.

"He's still green as grass, so we'll have to keep that in mind," he reminded Niall.

"Yeah, we don't want anythin' _else_ to happen," Niall replied. This was plenty bad enough though. Louis would gladly endure a horse related injury and have Harry with him than to be without Harry.

"Which way?" asked Niall as they got to the road.

"How the fuck should I know?" Louis was back to his abrasive, irritable self, but this time he was suffering, and Niall saw it in his stormy eyes that had turned a darker blue, like they did when Louis was completely out of sorts. This was much more extreme than that though, and Niall respected it.

"The direction of the ranch," decided Louis out loud. "I can't see Harry going the other way, unless . . ."

"Don't even think it," Niall was quick to interject. "He's ridin' back to the ranch because he's upset, so, yeah, let's go that way."

Niall was right, thought Louis. Harry wouldn't do anything drastic. And he had Saber, his horse, to think about. He wouldn't put the animal in danger, no matter how upset he was.

They began at a canter, and Niall kept his eyes on the hoofprints he saw in the dirt ahead of them. He didn't mention it to Louis. He knew Louis would have noticed it too except that he wasn't in his right mind. Niall knew his boss' brain was basically mush, because it was overloaded with thoughts of Harry.

When the going got more rocky, Niall could no longer, of course, see hoof prints. He wished he was back in the time when the Apache Indians roamed this area, and that he was an Indian himself. He'd be able to see little clues, like a broken twig or something that would indicate exactly where Harry had ridden. But it didn't matter that much anyway, because they were all going in the same general direction.

From time to time Mystic Thunder would start feeling his oats, and Louis would have to circle him to remind him of who was in charge, and this slowed their progress. It couldn't be helped though, and Niall was patient about it. He hoped it might help to get Louis' mind off Harry, even if for only a few minutes.

They trotted after a while, with Mystic Thunder snorting, blowing and prancing in his eagerness to explore this area, where he'd never been. Louis knew the horse had no doubt never left the valley in his life.

Every so often, Niall would see a hoof print between the rocks, and he wondered how much of a start Harry had on them.

"You don't know how long he'd been gone when you got up?" asked Niall. Of course the rancher didn't. He'd been asleep, but Niall figured getting him to talk a little bit might keep him from thinking disturbing thoughts.

Louis shook his head in the negative. "No idea."

"Then he could be hours ahead of us," Niall continued with facts that were already apparent.

"Well, I got up at seven-thirty. He had to feed Saber first, and it gets light around, what? Six o'clock now? So I reckon he's around an hour ahead of us, yeah?" reasoned Louis.

Niall nodded. Sounded about right. There would be no way they'd catch him unless they really pushed their horses. And for all they knew, Harry could be pushing Saber too, for fear Louis would be following him.

So they rode at a fast trot for another half an hour before Louis pulled Mystic Thunder up.

"It's no use," he muttered, disgust peppering his words. They turned around wordlessly, Niall silently accepting Louis' decision.

"I can get in the truck when we get back and drive this way," Niall offered.

"Nah, he'll be off the road enough to where you probably wouldn't see him." Of course he would. Louis was right. And the truck wasn't four-wheel drive.

What could they do? Not a whole lot. Louis hated like hell to go back to the cabin, but it was a useless endeavor, and they couldn't exhaust their horses when the odds were they weren't going to catch Harry anyway. Best to think of another approach. Problem was, there _wasn't_ another approach.

Louis looked like he would fall out of the saddle at any moment, thought Niall as they rode back. He was slumped over in defeat, depression screaming silent volumes from the dejected man, and Niall's sensitive heart was affected by the sadness that settled around them like the Texas dust.

"Want me to stay with you tonight?" he asked Louis. But Louis' mind was far away, his eyes red-rimmed and unfocused. Niall decided he'd ask again later.

The first thing Louis did was check the cabin and then the corral in the valley. No Harry, and no Saber to be found. He'd been trying to push back the glimmer of hope that Harry had returned while they'd been gone. And Niall had seen the eagerness in his boss' eyes, the restless expectation. Then he'd seen Louis practically deflate when hope flew the coop, and misery set in even more harshly.

Harry was either on a very long ride, or he didn't intend to come back. They both had to assume he had gone back to the ranch. Louis knew Harry wouldn't ride his horse through the night, and the thought of Harry out there somewhere in this wild, pretty much raw, uninhabited area sickened him. A quick inspection told him the sleeping bag was still in the cupboard, so Harry would be sleeping on the ground, vulnerable to anything that crossed his path in the night. He'd be cold too. Temperatures had been in the forties at night. If he got hypothermia . . .

 _Enough already!_ Louis couldn't possibly cover every inch of the miles and miles of country out there in the pitch dark, looking for him. He wasn't really Superman, and he couldn't really see in the dark. Louis knew that Harry didn't really believe that—that it was just a nice compliment he'd given Louis, but still, Louis wished he could save the day . . .


	67. Chapter 67

"What am I supposed to do with the rest of the day?" Louis was looking to Niall for answers, and Niall was running out of them.

"He might come back today," Niall replied weakly.

"What am I supposed to do today, or the next day, or the next?" Louis' voice was rising on each word, seemingly oblivious to what Niall had just said, desperation gripping him. "I can't go back to the ranch with you—what if Harry should come back?"

"I'll stay with you."

"They'll worry about you at the ranch. They'll think you might have had an accident or sommat."

"Someone will come out here if they're worried enough. I ain't leavin' unless you tell me to," Niall stated firmly.

Seeing Niall being this forceful warmed Louis' heart. The lad was looking out for him. All the ranch hands did, and he couldn't be more grateful. But at the moment, his mind was churning with unceasing fear. Harry could be hurt out there. What if Saber spooked at something, and Harry got thrown? What if he was bitten by a snake? So many things were lying in wait to harm Harry. Harry, who was entirely inexperienced with the wilds. He'd already demonstrated that when he'd almost gone over the edge of the mountain that night. What would he do tonight, out there in the dark? Louis fought back tears.

Fighting to calm down, Louis knew he wasn't helping Harry or anyone else by getting so worked up. It wasn't long after that that Louis went into a kind of shock. He stared straight ahead, sitting next to Niall on the mountaintop, recalling everything he loved about Harry. Not even aware of his surroundings, he was ungrounded in another world.

He could see the lad's dimples so clearly when he closed his eyes, could feel the softness of his hair, and how it turned Harry on when he tugged on it. How Harry didn't mind being called a wanker because he knew Louis was just teasing him. How quickly Harry had caught on to kissing, and other, more intimate things. How excited he'd been when he'd first seen Mystic Thunder through the binoculars. His goofy laugh, how they'd played in the rain naked when they were at the line shack. In his mind's eye Louis could clearly see Harry falling off Joaquin when he was learning to ride a cutting horse. The way Harry had kept pulling himself up out of the dirt, and trying again, over and over, dead set on getting it right. And in the end, he did. Harry working his ass off to prove to Louis that he was capable of being a ranch hand. And how much he'd cared when the Palomino mare had given birth. He may not have helped much, but he was there, beside Louis; had gotten out of bed to help him, even when he was dead tired, and had to get up early in the morning. The flood of memories was too much, and Louis couldn't hold the tears back any longer.

He cried softly, shoulders quaking, and Niall didn't know what to do at first. But then he used common sense, and slipped an arm around Louis' shoulders, rubbed his back, told him it was all going to work out in the end.

 _Thank God for Niall._

How Louis would have gotten through it without him was something he didn't want to explore. The fact was, he didn't want to be alone, and Niall knew it. And he was here for him.

This was the second time Louis had cried in many years, and both times it had been related to Harry. The time he'd told Harry about his father, spilling it all out about how he was trying to live up to running the ranch in the same fashion, and now, crying for Harry's return.

"I didn't know you two were actually in love, but I should've seen it. Harry looked at you just like you looked at him. I refuse to believe he's gone for good. You have to have faith, Lou." Niall's chin was set, and he was resolute.

Louis didn't answer. When dinner time finally came, Louis picked at his food, and Niall didn't gorge himself like he usually did. Shocking, it was. But Louis knew Niall really cared, and seeing Louis like this didn't lend itself to a huge appetite. Niall didn't touch the bananas. He left them where they were, sacred, and belonging to Harry, although only God knew where Harry was.

Niall tried to make conversation to distract Louis from thoughts of Harry, especially as the sun went down, and it got colder outside. Louis didn't start a fire, and so Niall took it upon himself to do it. He figured that Louis was thinking that if Harry was cold, he should be cold too. Niall got it. He'd never been in love, but he could feel the vibrations of Louis' love for Harry, and he wondered if he'd ever love anyone so completely. It must hurt so deeply. It was almost enough to reduce Niall himself to tears, but he knew he had to maintain control for Louis' sake.

"Damn it Niall! I want to ride out there, and ride and ride, all night long. I feel like I'm doin' nothin' by sittin' here with you."

"There's nothin' you can do, Tommo. You have to be strong for tomorrow, when we . . . " Niall realized there could be no concrete plan for tomorrow either. No wonder Louis was so frustrated. Even if and when Harry got to the ranch, it wouldn't be until late tomorrow. Going to the ranch wouldn't even help, because Harry wouldn't be there yet. Somehow Louis was going to have to wait it out another entire day.

Louis at last took off his boots and laid back on the bed. Several candy bars slipped out of his boots as he carelessly let them drop. Niall eyed them with mild curiosity.

"Candy bars in your boots?" he asked.

Louis smiled, but it was a forlorn, torn smile. "Yeah. I keep 'em in me boots for Harry. He likes 'em."

"But why in your _boots_?"

"So he won't find 'em. So I can dole 'em out now and then. It's a runnin' joke between us." Louis bowed his head against his chest, fighting tears again, sadness claiming his features.

Oh boy, there was no hope for Louis, thought Niall. He was hopelessly in love. The kind of love that surely knew no cure. He hoped with all his heart that Harry was just riding back to the ranch, and hadn't taken off for good. Harry wasn't the spiteful type, so that made Niall wonder if he was just really upset, hurt, or whatever. Something that would wear off. Niall just couldn't see Harry ever trying to worry Louis intentionally, or leaving for real. So that made him hopeful that Harry would be at the ranch by tomorrow, waiting for Louis. He didn't, however, voice this to Louis, just in case, on the off chance that Harry was really serious about leaving. Niall hoped they'd get word soon that Harry was alright, because he really was concerned about Louis' state of mind.

As morning blended into afternoon, Harry started thinking about water for Saber. Horses can go for a while without it. They aren't camels, but still, the mustangs in the valley would only go to the creek once a day. Still, he felt guilty, drinking from a bottle of water from his saddlebags without being able to offer Saber any. He kept riding, hoping he'd come upon some kind of water supply. It was pretty uncivilized out here. A lot looked untouched. No houses, no people; only the occasional rabbit or squirrel that often ran out from underfoot and spooked Saber the first few times until he grew accustomed to it. His spooks were now reduced to mere flinches that felt like minor earthquakes under the saddle.

Harry couldn't pull his mind away from what it would be like later. It would be so dark he wouldn't be able to see his hand in front of his face. He knew that for certain, because he remembered that night Louis had saved him from falling over the side of the drop-off into the valley. It had been like a blanket of darkness that he'd wanted to tear a hole into so he could see _something._

A few more miles, and Harry saw a building at a distance. Looked like a house. He reined his horse in that direction, and as he got closer, he saw some pasture land and cattle. The house was run down, and there were so few cows in the pasture that he figured they must be just to sustain a small family. As he got closer, he saw a few pigs too, and chickens.

Harry thought about asking if he could buy a small amount of grain for Saber, or oats, or something to give the horse a boost in energy for their trip. It wasn't necessary, of course. Saber would be fine just grazing tonight as Harry slept, but he felt responsible, and wanted his horse to be as comfortable as possible. But he was afraid of people seeing him. What if Louis came by here later? He didn't want even the possibility of someone telling Louis he'd been here. Why he worried about that, he didn't know, as Louis would just assume he was going back to the ranch. It was pretty apparent, under the circumstances.

A clawed bathtub came into view, and as luck would have it, it was right up flush with the fence where the cows were. Those old bathtubs were used universally as water troughs. He could get Saber a drink, and that gave him a feeling of relief. The cows lined up a good fifty feet away and watched suspiciously, poised and ready to flee at a moment's notice as horse and rider approached. Not one of the bovines moved a single muscle, their ears perked. They looked like statues. Harry inched Saber up to the fence, and seeing no one around, loosened the reins, and Saber stuck his nose through the fence and drank his fill of the clear, cold water. The animals on the place were in good condition, and Harry always liked to see that. They looked contented, and they were all very curious about Saber, yet remained hesitant, as if they'd never seen a horse before. Maybe they hadn't. Maybe this family couldn't afford a horse.

As Harry rode off, the cows drew courage from his retreat and followed him along the fence line until they reached the end. Harry turned and looked back over his shoulder, and the cows stood, once again in perfect formation, finding safety in their numbers as they studied horse and rider leaving. Harry had the strangest urge to wave good-bye to them. But then the haunting flame of his love for Louis interjected itself again, and the tears flowed hot and salty, more profuse than ever. Harry swiped at them with the sleeve of his shirt, angry that he hadn't the unflinching, stouthearted nature to ignore his lovesick misery.

Late afternoon found Harry munching a cheese stick, jerky and some crackers, allowing Saber to graze. The grass in this area was pretty long—almost knee height. There would be plenty of it for Saber to graze all night, and he'd be fine until they got to the ranch, where he could have a hearty meal of hay and grain.

An hour or so later, nervousness almost overtook Harry a few times as the sun began to go down. He feared the absolute darkness, not being able to see what else besides himself and his horse was out there. Night creatures—snakes, spiders, scorpions, and worse, something big like a bear. He didn't know what other predators resided in this area, and he didn't really _want_ to know. One thing he did know for sure was that he wouldn't be getting much sleep. He had no defense. But even if he'd had a gun, it wouldn't have done him any good in the darkness. If he shot in the direction of a noise, he could end up shooting his own horse.

As night fell, Harry unsaddled and hobbled Saber so he couldn't wander far or fast, yet had freedom to graze, then bedded himself down on a particularly thick patch of grass, laying his head on his saddle like he'd seen cowboys do in Western movies, and tried to relax. The saddle was a very uncomfortable pillow, but the cold was far worse.

The temperature was dropping, and soon he knew he'd be shivering. He had two shirts on in addition to his jacket and had covered up with Saber's saddle blanket, but the chill was seeping right in anyway. He wished it wouldn't get any darker, as he could still see the outline of Saber, grazing nearby, and he could also see that nothing was stalking him. But soon—too soon, he was swallowed up by the night.

He couldn't even find the moon. That meant there were clouds overhead. Oh great. The last thing he needed was a storm. Even light rain would be a problem. There was no cover, even though he'd kept an eye out those last couple of hours he'd ridden before stopping. No big rocks like in the valley, no thick bushes that he could dig a bed into the middle of to provide some meager cover for himself. Instead, he was right out in the open, easy prey with no means of protecting himself from either beast or weather.

The blackness was giving him a panicked sense of being trapped. His teeth began to chatter, and that helped a little bit with his fear because it put all his concentration on trying to stay warm. He knew about hypothermia, and decided he should move around, since it was clear he wasn't going to be able to go to sleep. He couldn't walk far, as he could so easily get lost, so he listened for Saber, and stayed within hearing distance of the horse's chewing sounds as he ate the grass. Back and forth he walked, rubbing his arms, afraid he'd step into a hole and break his leg, as he couldn't even see the ground he was treading on. His fingers and feet were very cold, and later on, began to get numb.

It was a night to remember, and not in a good way. Harry wore no watch; he'd always used his cell phone to tell the time. And of course, it wasn't charged. So he had no idea what time it was. He started to imagine he saw the sky lightening, only to realize it was just wishful thinking. He must be hallucinating. He swung his arms and marched—anything to try to stay warm. And all the while, he would randomly begin crying again.

All his dreams had been wrapped up in Louis, and he'd even dared to think of a future together, maybe even getting married. Now all that was canceled. Just that fast. And to think he'd been a fool to believe everything would be like a fairytale. Fairytale, his ass! He'd never been a terribly pragmatic person. He was a dreamer, a romantic, and even though he knew that wasn't practical, he'd refused to believe that there wasn't love out there for him, somewhere, someday.

When dawn finally showed itself, he was in the saddle within ten minutes. He would be at the ranch, he hoped, in maybe ten or twelve hours.

Louis woke slowly, forgetting the previous day for just a few seconds. He threw his arm over Harry to pull him close, then, seeing the blond head beside him, it all came rushing back. How Harry had left, and Niall had stayed the night with him.

Niall awoke with wide eyes. Well, as wide as he could get them considering he was still half asleep.

"Christ, what're you doin'?" he grumbled.

"Sorry, I forgot, and thought you were Harry." Louis embarrassed himself with the easy way it had rolled from his mouth. But Niall didn't look disgusted, just sympathetic.

Louis hadn't bothered taking the sleeping bag out of the cupboard. They had both been on the bed anyway, talking, so when they'd gotten sleepy, they'd simply climbed between the sheets without a second thought. Louis was once again grateful to Niall for understanding that he needed him close.

"We'll go back to the ranch late this afternoon, and I bet he'll be there by then," Niall suggested with raised eyebrows, hopeful Louis would agree.

"What good will it do? He won't want to talk to me."

"So? That won't stop you! Not the Louis I know. Don't you wanna fight for him?"

This brought Louis up short. Of course he did! He wasn't a quitter! He just wondered how Harry was going to behave around him. And the thought that Harry just might take off in his vehicle occurred to him too. So maybe, when they got to the ranch, he'd lie low and watch for Harry's intentions. He certainly didn't want to get there after Harry had left, and miss his chance.

"Let's get there early afternoon. If Harry gets there before us, what if he takes off?" he told his thoughts to Niall.

"Yeah, just what I was thinkin.' Let's get there earlier than he will. That way you can confront . . . . well, that's not the best word, I reckon. You can, um, _try_ to talk to him," Niall corrected himself.

Louis bathed with care in the creek, Niall doing the same about twenty feet away. Louis combed his hair carefully, putting on a nice long-sleeved dark blue chambray shirt and tight black jeans—glad he'd brought them along, but leaving the three day old scruff on his chin.

"Why didn't you shave?" Niall asked when they had completed their grooming.

"Harry likes it this way."

"Oh brother!" But Niall was wearing a smile.

Louis came to the rather obvious conclusion that Niall knew just how strongly he felt about Harry.

 _Crazy in love._

Louis and Niall took off in the truck and headed for the ranch about one o'clock, Louis hoping against hope that Harry wouldn't return to the cabin while they were gone. Niall joked that Louis looked more nervous than a lizard that a cat had by the tail. Louis was, indeed, nervous. He was jittery, and he fidgeted the entire way.

They both watched alongside the road, and back as far as they could see, but there was no sign of a horse and rider.

When they finally pulled up, Johnny was getting ready to climb into another of the ranch's trucks. Louis' eyes went immediately to Harry's Rover, and his sigh of relief was so loud that Niall sent him a questioning look, and then saw what Louis was looking at, and understood.

"We made it in time," he said soothingly as he patted Louis' arm.

Johnny got back out of the truck and approached the driver's side.

"I was just gonna go to the Apache Mountains and see what happened to you, Nialler."

"I spent the night."

Johnny looked a little puzzled, and Louis knew Niall didn't want to divulge anything that Louis might not approve of. So he spoke up.

"Harry left yesterday, on his horse. We're hopin' he's comin' here."

Johnny was really perplexed now. "Why'd he leave?"

"We had a disagreement, and he up and left before I got up in the mornin,'" explained Louis. He had a feeling he was going to get tired of telling the story in short order.

Johnny's face transformed as it sunk in. He nodded, and Louis knew nothing more needed to be said.

Leo and Nick came out to greet Louis and Niall, and Louis saw them looking around for Harry, but, sensing something wasn't quite right, they didn't bring it up. Sooner or later, Louis knew he'd have to tell them about the argument too, if that's what you wanted to call it, unless he relegated that job to Johnny, and it was very temping, but he knew he should do it himself.

Waiting for Harry to show up, and afraid even more than he might not, Louis stayed out of sight of the direction Harry would be riding, just in case Harry saw him, and turned around again. He paced, he chain smoked, he fretted internally. He didn't know just how to word the situation to Nick and Leo, and he did fear they would tell Harry he was here before Louis had a chance to corner the lad and talk to him alone.

About three o'clock, Niall called out, as Louis sat rigid in a chair behind the bunkhouse, still hidden.

"Rider comin'! I think it's Harry!"


	68. Chapter 68

Louis, who had been petting an overjoyed Shadow Bear, immersed in how much he'd missed her, jumped up, aware that Leo and Nick, the only ones who he was pretty sure didn't know the story, were staring at him. He could have cared less. Harry was the only thing on his mind right now.

It had to be Harry. They rarely had riders appear, and from that direction especially, because there was nothing out there. Just raw, rough land. Louis tried to slow his breathing. He knew his chest was heaving, and he knew everyone else saw it too. Again, he paid no mind.

As the rider got closer, Louis, peeking around the side of the bunkhouse with just one eye, could see it was Harry without a doubt.

Harry had arrived at the ranch sooner than he had expected. By at least a couple of hours. Saber had realized he was traveling toward the ranch, and of course he considered it home. He didn't want to walk, and Harry, tired of fighting with him, let him go at his own pace. They had trotted, but mostly cantered for the last few miles, and that had really eaten up the time.

Harry found himself feeling a little dizzy, not quite sick, but not quite well either, not knowing what to expect. He didn't know if Louis would be here or not. He doubted it though, as Louis would want to be at the cabin in case he returned. Seeing Johnny, Niall, Nick and Leo in front of the bunkhouse, all watching him ride in made him uneasy because he knew he wouldn't know how to answer their questions. Their eyes on him made him squirm. But his worry was somewhat eased when he didn't see Louis anywhere. He knew Niall had been at the cabin today, or at least he was scheduled for it, and Louis would have had to tell him. There was no way the Irish lad would not notice Harry's absence. So Harry wondered how much they all knew. They must be dying of curiosity as to exactly what had happened, even if they'd gotten a partial story from Niall.

At last, he pulled Saber up, his journey over. Johnny stepped forward to take the horse from him to unsaddle him, brush him and put him in a corral.

"Thanks, Johnny. He'd appreciate some hay and grain," said Harry.

Johnny's ever sharp eyes trailed over Harry. He saw the red rimmed, slightly swollen eyes first, the weary look of the lad, the fact that Harry's hair was tangled, and his rumpled appearance made it obvious, if he hadn't already guessed, that Harry had slept in those clothes, and had obviously ridden some forty miles since yesterday.

Harry removed his hat, just for something to do with his hands, feeling conspicuous as hell with all those eyes fastened on him. His hair looked even worse with the hat off, sticking up and his curls wild and completely unruly. He ran his hand through it, to no avail. He needed to wash it and comb it to look halfway presentable.

"I need a shower," he mumbled to Johnny. Johnny merely nodded, watching Harry stride into the bunkhouse. Johnny led Saber to his old corral and gave the horse two generous flakes of hay along with a quart of grain, then looked on as the horse eagerly ate and drank, clearly glad to be back home.

Louis remained behind the bunkhouse, and heard the shower come on. That started his heart thumping even harder, knowing it was likely Harry in there. How he wanted to join him in the shower! But he shook off the urge and waited to see what would unfold.

When Harry emerged from the bunkhouse twenty minutes later, he wore a clean shirt and jeans that he'd nabbed from his chest of drawers in the bunkhouse. His hair was wet, but combed, his teeth brushed, and he no longer looked like something the cat had dragged in.

"I'm, uh, grateful to you for seein' to Saber," Harry addressed Johnny as he jerked his chin in the direction of Saber's corral. "I'm grateful to all of you for . . . bein' good friends, and I'm sorry but . . . I have to go." Harry's eyes skimmed over the other hands; the precious friends and co-workers that meant so much to him. They all stood, motionless, having a hard time digesting what Harry was saying. Not able to even shake their hands for fear he'd explode into tears, Harry turned on his heel and made for the Rover.

Johnny wasted no time in following him and stopped him by stepping in front of him as they reached the Rover. They were now out of hearing shot of the other hands.

"I'm not lettin' you just drive away, so don't even try," Johnny said quietly in his perfectly modulated voice. Johnny was so even-tempered, and almost never yelled, or even raised his voice, but he could be quite convincing, and even portentous on rare occasions. He would never threaten Harry, but he had to give Louis a chance to talk to the lad, and that wouldn't happen if Harry drove away.

"Sorry, Johnny. Don't think I'm not grateful for all you've done for me, includin' helpin' me to get this job, but it's not gonna work out."

"Well, I do see somethin' is wrong, with you ridin' up by yourself and all, but don't you think you owe me, and the others, an explanation?"

Johnny was just stalling Harry for time, and Louis knew that. The foreman was a wizard at manipulating circumstances such as these. And it gave Louis time to take a deep breath and step out from behind the bunkhouse to approach.

As soon as Johnny heard Louis' footsteps behind him, he stepped aside, and went back to join the other hands, giving Louis his opportunity to attempt to repair whatever had gone wrong.

Harry choked down a gasp when he saw who was advancing on him. His legs almost went to rubber. Clever! Louis had evidently been hiding on purpose.

Harry tried not to look at Louis too much, but found himself staring anyway. Man, but the rancher was looking good. Invitingly good. Hot as hell. That dark blue shirt complimented his topaz blue eyes, the black jeans hugging him in all the right places.

Louis' gaze was hard and uncompromising. He got right to the point.

"Why'd you do it?" he demanded.

Harry felt his heart cry out. If he could only touch Louis. Just touch him, feel his warmth, his breath on his neck, his arms enfolding him tenderly. To be able to tell him why he couldn't stay.

"I . . . I can't tell you," Harry stammered. He would not look into those startlingly beautiful blue eyes, or at those inviting lips. He'd lose his resolve if he did. He'd come undone.

"Why? Why can't you tell me? How is there anythin' right about this?" Louis' voice was soft now, searching for that special, vulnerable spot in Harry, wanting to coax it out. Anything to keep him.

"Is there someone else?" he asked, realizing how ridiculous that sounded, but needing to keep Harry talking, keep him here—keep him from leaving.

"No!"

Of course there wasn't someone else. Harry and Louis had been in close proximity since Harry had started working here. Harry had always been in the bunkhouse or working with Louis. To think he'd have time to even meet someone else was ludicrous. Harry had hardly ever even gone into town by himself. It was as obvious as it could be that Louis was the only one Harry had been romantic with.

"Then why can't you tell me?"

With no words left that he was willing to say, Harry swung around, yanked the driver's door of the Rover open, slid onto the seat and turned the key, roaring away so fast that Louis was caught completely off guard. _What?_ Was Harry that desperate to get away from him?

He stared after Harry as the younger man sped down the road, knowing he didn't have enough time to get into a truck and follow him. Harry would be sure to lose him by making a lot of turns before Louis could even hope to catch up to him. He was out of sight in seconds.

Louis felt that lump in his throat again, and swore he wouldn't be reduced to tears in front of the others. But it was tough going. He walked right past them all, not saying a word, heading to the ranch house.

Johnny was practically on his heels. Louis tried to slam the door, but Johnny caught it and followed him right inside, without a moment's hesitation.

 _Just like a damn hound dog,_ thought Louis.

"Louis, don't worry. You'll find him," Johnny said once inside Louis' bedroom that he'd boldly entered after the rancher without thinking about it twice. He knew Louis, and he knew Louis would listen to him.

Louis whirled around, a perfect spin, as if he was on the dance floor, to face Johnny.

"Why's he runnin' like this?" he demanded, as if Johnny had the answers. "Why the fuck's he runnin'?"

"Only you and he know that," Johnny drawled, leaning against the wall and lighting a cigarette excruciatingly slowly.

"I don't know though! That's just it! He didn't tell me a fuckin' thing!"

Johnny didn't doubt it. He knew Louis wouldn't fib to him.

"What _happened,_ son?" Johnny asked gently, his manner oddly comforting, as it always was. Even in the heat of the moment, Johnny had a calming effect on Louis.

Louis raked his hand through his hair, then cupped the back of his neck with his palm. His neck was so tired from tension that it felt as if his head might fall off his shoulders.

"That's what I'd like to know. Nothin' happened. I thought things were fine, then he went quiet. Wouldn't hardly talk to me. I tried Johnny . . . the rest of that day and the entire next day, I tried to get him to tell me what was wrong."

"What happened right before he went silent?"

Johnny _would_ have to ask that question. Ironic.

Louis strained at the bit to think of how to word it without sounding crude.

"Private," he said. "Private stuff, but nothin' bad. Nothin' to warrant his behavior."

Johnny looked confused, and it was no wonder. Louis knew he was being too vague.

"Personal," he tried again. "But good. In no way was that the problem."

Now Johnny nodded knowingly.

"So . . ." Johnny flicked an ash into the ashtray on Louis' dresser. "It's a mystery. Maybe it was just a thought. On Harry's part. Somethin' that had nothin' to do with . . . what happened beforehand."

Entirely possible. But what could possibly have bothered Harry enough to not talk about it, and to leave?

"Now you just hafta get it outta him."

"How can I do that, Johnny? He took off!"

"Find him," Johnny made it sound so simple. Harry could be on the interstate by now!

"Where would I even look? He might even be on his way back to San Diego!"

"Damn it, Lou. You have to at least try!"

Okay, so now Niall and Johnny had said basically the same thing. Niall had told him to fight for Harry. Johnny was telling him to find him. So what was he doing, standing here in his bedroom?

"Tommo, I know I told you this long ago, but I knew about you two before Harry was workin' here for two months! Nothin' was goin' on—I knew that, but I could tell . . . you both felt the same way. Don't let a good thing get away. At least try. Take a runnin' start and go after him. But only if you really want him. And, by the way, I know you do," Johnny's eyes locked onto Louis,' and Louis couldn't remember Johnny ever looking quite so serious, so grave.

"Thanks, Johnny," and Louis fairly flew from the room, leaving the house, getting into a truck and driving . . . with absolutely no idea where he was going.

Harry was crying again. Trying to see the road through tears, sniffling, feeling sorry for himself.

 _Woe is me. I've lost the love of me life._

He was all set to drive straight back toward San Diego, to see Trish and Audrey. Tell them everything that had happened. They would give him comfort and solace if anybody could. But rationality curbed him almost immediately.

He'd had no sleep last night. He felt like he was in a fog. He needed rest, he knew that. He couldn't see driving even a hundred miles in the condition he was in. He could also be a road hazard. He sure didn't want to endanger anyone else if he fell asleep while behind the wheel.

So, very reluctantly, he drove out of town, looking for a motel some distance from the Rocking Horse Ranch. Louis was unlikely to be out looking for him, let alone find him in a motel an hour away. He came upon one as soon as he hit Odessa. Looked decent enough. He didn't need anything fancy. He'd only be here for one night.

Once in his room, all he wanted to do was recline on the bed and sleep. But sleep was elusive, and refused to come. Why should it? Even though he'd been up all night, he was wired for sound. Thoughts bounced around in his head. Questions pounded through his mind. There was no way he could unwind enough to even try to be able to drift off. He tried for a solid hour and a half, and then got up in disgust, suddenly realizing he'd taken none of his clothes, or even toiletries when he'd left. He'd have to pick some up. It wasn't as if he had no money. He had plenty. He'd had very little to spend it on, so he had the sum of most all of the paychecks he'd gotten for the past six months. He patted his savings bank book in his back pocket. He had a couple hundred in his wallet too. Yep, he had enough to live on for quite a few months easily. That was one worry out of the way . . .

Tomorrow he should get up early and get on the road to San Diego. His dream had come to an end. Apparently, working on a ranch in Texas wasn't in the cards for him after all. It had been so incredible though, while it lasted. Why hadn't he thought of the ramifications long before this, and spared himself and Louis all this hurt? He could hardly stand to recall the astonished look on Louis' face when he'd intercepted him at the Rover. And he couldn't blame him at all. They'd been so close . . .

Sitting on the couch, it was already six o'clock, and Harry had hardly moved. He was staring into space, numb, wishing he could change things back to the way they'd been at the cabin.

 _Maybe this had all been a dream._

The real world was turning out to be nothing like his dreams had been.

Now those dreams lay shattered in shards on the floor at his feet. The unshed tears burned his eyes, and he dropped his head into his hands.

A knock on his motel room door . . . he wasn't expecting that. Someone must have the wrong room, or maybe it was the manager with some stupid question. He took so long to come out of his daze and rise that the knock sounded again, a little more urgently this time. He dragged himself to the door, suddenly having no reserve energy left, wanting so badly to be left alone.

As he opened the door wearily, there stood . . . _Louis._

Harry was stunned, to say the least. He blinked his eyes to be sure it wasn't just a vision. He tried to keep his heart from lifting, but the sight of Louis made him nearly lose his mind. He tried to tamp down the excitement, the hope, but at the same time knowing nothing good could come from this.

How in the hell had Louis found him? It was getting dark outside, and one of the first things Harry noticed was how the light over the door glinted off Louis' golden brown hair with the red highlights that Harry had always so admired. He wasn't wearing his cowboy hat. It was in his hand, and Harry felt that was a nice gesture.

"What . . . what are you doin' here?" he said, saying the first thing that came to his mind.

"Well, I guess I scored one," said Louis. "At least you didn't slam the door in me face." As he said it, he slid his booted foot in the door to make certain that didn't happen now.

"Well? You gonna invite me in?" Louis asked with an abrasive, almost bitter tone to his voice. Harry was still just standing there, looking at him as if he was from another world.

"Um . . . yeah." Harry realized it would be extremely rude to turn Louis away after he'd driven an hour to get here. "Come on in," but there was a palpable reluctance in his offer. Only because he didn't need this temptation.

"Whether you want to or not, I reckon we have things to talk about. I'm pissed at you for leavin' and not sayin' a word of warnin' to me. I didn't think you were a coward."

Harry opened the door wide. The game was on.

"I'm not a coward! I had me reasons!"

"Well, let's have it then." Louis was a living, breathing challenge, standing there in the dimly lit motel room, his arms crossed in front of him, not a big man, but bigger than life right now. His attitude poured off him, his scornful sneer intimidating Harry. He was provoking him on purpose—Harry knew that.

"I'm not givin' up, Styles. I want answers." Louis had that overbearing, grim look on his face that he'd worn long ago, when Harry had been trying to ask him for a job.

Harry cleared his throat. "Come on in. Sit down," he gestured to the decent, but less than pristine couch.

Louis remained standing.

"Don't have anythin' to offer you to drink but water," Harry added. Louis wasn't about to grant pemission to Harry to change the subject.

"Knock it off with the pleasantries, Harry! Why did you leave me like that? Ride all the way back to the ranch, and then drive off? I've never known anyone who needed a kick in the ass more than you do."

Whoa. That blew Harry back almost like a strong wind.

"You're sarcastic and blunt, and you're scarin' me," Harry's voice cracked just a little.

"Bullshit! Harry, You know I'd never lay a finger on you. Even though you think you don't trust me, or even wanna trust me, you do."

He was right. Right on target. Harry trusted him with everything he had; with his life.

"You wanna call me a little shit, go ahead, but I checked every motel between here and Pecos to find you, you son of a bitch." Louis' jaw was clenching, that muscle in his temple flexing.

And Louis' profound expression almost made Harry wither under the intensity. The man wasn't playing games, and Harry knew he had to tell him why he'd left. Time had run out. No more running and skirting around the truth. If he didn't tell him, Louis would ride him until he got something out of him. No one was more determined than Louis. He'd haunt him and make him miserable until Harry broke down.

"Okay, if you sit down here, I'll tell you," Harry finally relented, seating himself and then patting the couch beside him. Louis cautiously sat down, perching on the outer edge of the cushion in case Harry hesitated, and then he would just bounce right back up again, knowing he had an advantage if he was standing up. He could loom over Harry, and body language could influence a person.

"Let me think a minute on how to say it."

"No. Just tell me. I want it honest and candid," warned Louis, his eyes burning a hole into Harry's.

"Alright. I left because I got to thinkin,' and I realized people wouldn't accept you as a gay man. All your business connections, your customers that buy your cattle and horses. To put it in a nutshell, I didn't want to cause you to lose business and people's respect because of me."

Okay, so it was out. Louis could do with it what he wanted.

Louis sat there, seemingly stunned, and for once, speechless. How he was taking it, Harry had no idea. He couldn't read his face. It must have been a solid minute before Louis reacted. Even then he didn't say a word. He just got to his feet abruptly and glowered down at Harry.

"Is that really it?" Louis said after a lifetime of silence. "Nothin' else?"

"No," said a wide-eyed Harry. "That's the whole reason." He didn't know what to expect, and he had a feeling that Louis was either in shock, or he just plain didn't believe him. The fact that he was on his feet again though, was menacing and ominous . . .


	69. Chapter 69

"You wanna know how I feel about that?" Louis' persona told Harry he was going to state it whether Harry wanted to hear it or not.

"A long time ago, I changed things up so that I don't do all me business in one place. Why do you think so much stuff is trucked in from Lubbock? I don't do that much business close to home. I went through a rough spell with the ranch after me dad died. I had to take over all me dad's responsibilities. I didn't know if I could handle it. It was a clusterfuck and I was seriously uptight. Johnny helped me out more than he'll ever know. I settled in, but couldn't have done it without him. Me ranch is known for me horses and cattle. They're quality. It's only been six years, but I've become sought after for me beef and quality horses. You know that."

Harry nodded. "I know the ranch is profitable. I did the books. I was surprised at just _how_ profitable it is."

"Yeah. I wanna start sellin' cattle on the internet, advertisin' me stud horses there too. And you also know I supply a lot of restaurants all over Texas with their beef. What I'm tryin' to say is, I don't need local people to keep me ranch runnin.' So I don't give a shit what people in town think."

Okay, so now Harry understood. Louis was saying that people could talk behind his back all they wanted because he didn't _need_ them. He had plenty of business contacts elsewhere.

Looking resolute, Louis went on to say, "Gay in Texas could get a guy forced off the road and shot." He let that sink in for a moment as Harry's eyes went wide. "But no one would dare do it. Not to me. Me dad's legacy and all that."

Harry realized this was true. He'd seen how the people at the barn dance had treated Louis with deference. And Harry didn't think it was all because of Louis' dad. He was a legend in his own right. He was held in high regard. No one ever teased him, berated him or ragged on him. No one gave him a hard time but those who were closest to him—the ranch hands. But even then, they were only joking, and they always gave careful consideration to their choice of words. They were never discourteous to him.

"So . . . " Louis said after a beat of silence. "I'm not worried about any consequences of bein' gay. And if that's what you're freakin' about, then you can just put your mind to rest."

Harry tried to register all of this. It was significant. Louis was telling him something groundbreaking. Louis was saying he was okay with them being a gay couple. Completely okay.

Harry was embarrassed about how skittish and faint hearted he'd been. He'd been afraid of judgment, but even more afraid of Louis being judged. He should have had faith that Louis could handle it. Louis wouldn't do anything rash or put either of them at risk. Of course he'd have thought this whole thing out. Harry might be a fanciful dreamer, but Louis was pragmatic, was going to make sure the two of them would be solid and safe. They could be a great team. They could balance each other out.

"Lou . . . Oh God, I'm so sorry. Words can't tell you . . . " Harry was interrupted by Louis.

"I don't blame you for worryin.' You were lookin' out for me, same as I look out for you."

"That's what people in love do," said Harry solemnly. The next thing he knew, Louis had gathered him close. Nothing, but nothing in this world, or any other world, could take the place of being close to Louis, soaking in his warmth, hearing his lungs softly huff his sigh of happiness.

"What you say we leave this place and go home?"

Harry was lightning fast with his response. He laid the key to the room on a table, and they strode toward the door. As tired as Harry was, he staggered just a little bit. Louis zeroed in on it.

"Hey, you were probably up most of the night, yeah?" asked Louis.

"Well, yeah. I was scared to lay down because of wild animals and . . . the dark," admitted Harry readily.

Louis sighed again, but this time it was from guilt and a heavy heart. Even though Harry had left on his own, Louis felt like he could have done something more. He was just so glad Harry had made the trip safely. And so grateful.

"You'll have to tell me all about it. I'm sorry I wasn't there. I can see in the dark, you know," teased Louis. "I could've come in handy. And we'll stay here tonight. You're too tired and sleepy to drive back to the ranch tonight."

Harry didn't argue. So what if they weren't in the most desirable motel room in the world. He'd have Louis with him, and that was all that mattered.

Louis might be contrary according to some, but he was stoic and single-minded when it came to something he really wanted. And he really wanted Harry.

In bed, they talked for a while, Harry telling Louis all about his journey to the ranch. Louis winced a few times, and Harry knew he was imagining how bad it could have been, should something have gone wrong. At least Harry hadn't gotten dangerously cold, and Louis applauded him for having the sense to keep walking, keeping his blood flowing, creating heat.

Harry needed to mention something. "You don't have to be strong all of the time. You don't have to be on your guard with me. I've seen how hard you've been on the ranch, but with me you've been so gentle and sweet. Let your guard down with me . . . please." Harry was letting his emotions and thoughts flow.

"Aw, shucks," Louis uttered. "I'm gettin' better at it all the time. I'm not used to . . . bein' in love," he admitted. "I have more to learn, yeah?" They were both still in their clothes, lying on top of the covers, somehow strangely shy with each other. They had come so close to breaking up . . . the thought made them both a little queasy.

"You're lots better than you used to be. I feel your shield lowerin' even now," Harry professed.

After a moment, "You should see how you're lookin' at me," Louis murmured. Harry knew he had to look lovesick. But that was how he really felt, so for once, he didn't act bashful. He adored Louis, there was no hiding that.

Louis was having a hell of a time not touching Harry, but he knew they had to take this slow. Harry was fragile right now . . . and so was he.

 _Slow burn._

Louis really liked the idea of that anyway. The sex had always been amazing between them, off the charts. There was no denying that. And when they held off, something Louis had never done with anyone before, the excitement and arousal was almost incomprehensible.

Harry was his drug, and he'd gone through withdrawals without him. Now that they were back together, the warmth infused his veins, creating a kind of intoxication that had no equal.

Harry was exhausted. Louis detected it not only through the lad's unsteady gait, but also the way his eyes weren't quite all the way open. Partly because he desired Louis, and partly because he was so dead tired. Louis respected that.

"Hey, let's sleep tonight. You're so tired you can hardly keep those sexy green eyes open. I'll seduce you in the mornin.'"

"You're such a gentleman," quipped Harry.

"Well, of course. I'm Doncaster's finest import."

Harry laughed hard over that one.

"And you also really are a little shit. But Lou, I want you so much."

"Ditto. But you need to be rested first. Because I'm gonna love you thoroughly."

That started the tingling in Harry. A nice promise to sleep on—softer than any pillow. Now that Harry reflected on it, Louis was soft, yet hard. He was the perfect combination. Sweetness, intensity, passion, with a dash of wicked. Yeah, never boring. Just what Harry, in the back of his mind, had always dreamed his fantasy cowboy would be like.

"Let me undress you, Curly." Louis slid him out of his clothes, smoothly and fluidly. He took off his boots, leaving his socks on because Harry liked to wear socks to bed. He helped Harry slide under the covers, and then he undressed himself. It seemed to Harry that Louis was by his side, holding him within thirty seconds. But then, maybe Harry had drifted off just briefly. He was so tired . . .

Both Harry and Louis woke to a dreadful feeling in the pits of their stomachs, briefly forgetting they were back together. Harry was afraid to open his eyes for fear he'd be sleeping on the ground, in the middle of nowhere. But the softness around him and the warmth of Louis's body spooning him brought the realization back that he and Louis were together in a motel room. Last night had really happened. It wasn't a dream! Louis had somehow found him at the motel and changed his world once again.

When Louis awoke, he thought he was in the bed in the cabin . . . with Harry gone. But the sound of Harry's soft breathing reminded him that it wasn't Niall next to him. He knew Harry's breathing when he slumbered better than he knew his own name.

"Harry."

"Louis."

They uttered each other's name at the same moment. Louis' arms tightened around him, Harry moving backward to nestle as close as he possibly could.

"Careful," warned Louis teasingly. "Someone else has missed you just as much as I have."

Harry felt the rigidity of Louis' member pressing against his butt, throbbing and flexing with a life of its own, and it was the most missed and desired feeling in the world. He felt as if they hadn't touched in a very long time, even though it had only been a couple of days.

Harry couldn't stop the hoarse moan that tore out of him. It was primal, and something that Harry really didn't even want to try to control. His visceral reaction got Louis' attention big-time.

But he had to exercise restraint for now. "Let's go to breakfast," Louis said before he did something rash. "I know you're hungry. You have to be. I doubt you had dinner last night, or much to eat all day yesterday. You got your rest last night, and the least I can do is take you to breakfast, then we can come back here and I'll ravish you."

It was immensely difficult to get out of their warm bed, but Harry's stomach was growling, and things would be a lot more romantic without that. So he reluctantly agreed.

"Look. I plugged our phones in last night. They're all charged, so we can call the ranch and tell 'em we'll be back later, and you can call your mum and friends too, if you want." Louis had thought of everything! Harry was so eager to talk to his mum, Trish and Audrey, and reassure them that he was fine, and had had a wonderful time in the Apache Mountains. He especially couldn't wait to tell them about Mystic Thunder. They would love to hear of the capture, taming and training of the magnificent stallion. The horse that Harry would send them a picture of as soon as he had one on his phone.

"Joaquin and Mystic Thunder!" he cried, realizing the horses were still at the cabin.

"Don't worry. I had planned on goin' back with a trailer to get them after Niall and I got back to the ranch. . . .and found you, of course. They won't be short on food and water. I knew they had enough for a few days when I left the cabin, just in case I was held up."

"Well, Hedgehog. Looks like you thought of it all!" Harry was again pleased that Louis paid such close attention to detail.

Breakfast was intimate and cozy. Harry hadn't expected any less though. Louis was overly attentive, and, although he was careful, watching around them, he made sure Harry felt like a pampered lover. But they _were_ in Texas, after all, and Louis couldn't kiss him or show too much affection. He tried to make up for it though, by filling Harry's coffee cup whenever it got close to being empty, and ordering all Harry's favorite breakfast foods. After eating only jerky, cheese sticks and crackers yesterday, Harry was famished. It was better they were doing it this way, he pondered, instead of staying in bed. He felt a lot more comfortable and stronger now that his stomach was happy. He would enjoy their lovemaking that much more.

They stopped at a store to get soap, shampoo, toothpaste and toothbrushes on the way back to the motel. Harry grabbed only one toothbrush, and wouldn't let Louis select one.

"Is it wrong to want to share the same one with you?" he asked shyly, afraid louis would disapprove.

Louis thought about it for all of two seconds. "No, of course not. In fact, I rather like the idea."

They took separate showers, letting the anticipation build. They didn't speak of making love, but instead shared plenty of sly little smiles and flirted quite shamelessly.

Louis tugged at Harry's hair when he came out of the bathroom, dressed only in his jeans, his gorgeous dark locks exploding in luscious waves over his shoulders, and dripping down his flawless chest. Louis did it because he wanted to, but also because he knew it would cause Harry to smile, and those dimples were hiding just under the surface, ready to make an entrance at a moment's notice.

Louis made a quick call to Johnny to let him know he'd found Harry and they'd be spending the night in a motel before returning to the ranch tomorrow. He thought he heard a soft, satisfied chuckle come from Johnny as they ended the call.

"Do you mind if I call me mum, Audrey and Tish?" asked Harry.

"Not a problem, Haz. I'll give you some privacy." Louis left the bedroom before Harry could say anything further. Yeah, maybe it was best if Louis left him alone for this. Not that he had any secrets, because he didn't, but he wanted to be unobserved as he broke the news to Audrey and Tish. Louis' gaze might make him feel a little bashful and self-conscious. He wasn't sure what he would say to his mum yet, but he'd just go with the flow.

"Harry, is that really you?" Audrey's voice had gone up a couple of octaves. "I'm so happy to hear your voice! You stayed a long time at the Apache Mountains! You must have really loved it."

Harry smiled to himself. He'd really loved it alright. All of it, but most of all, Louis.

He told her everything in a synopsis, knowing that when he visited her, or she visited him, he could go into all the details. But for now, he told her about the beautiful scenery, the cabin, the wild horses, the mustang Louis had given him, about the Chardonnay, and when he got to the part about them having only one bed, Audrey screamed until he was almost deaf.

"I knew it! So you and your boss . .. Louis, um . . ." She stalled out.

"Yeah, Audrey, yeah! We were just friends, working together for six months, but when we got to the cabin, sparks started to fly." He would tell her about the line shack and all the other adventures at a later date, when they had more time, and could see each other face to face. It would be so much more exciting—for Audrey to hear, and Harry to tell.

He and Audrey told each other just about _everything_ that happened in their lives. It had always been that way, and he trusted Audrey to the ends of the earth with the information.

"I told you! I told you!" she kept saying. "I had a feeling you'd meet a sexy cowboy in Texas!"

"I have to admit, you're right." Almost an hour later, Harry being overly aware that Louis was waiting for him in the other room, they ended the call.

"I have to go—he's waiting." This brought another squeal from Audrey. "Call me again, soon, Harry. We're gonna have to have a visit ASAP!"

"Of course we will," Harry assured her.

After ringing off, he called Tish and told her the same thing, but in a slightly more discreet way. He and Tish were close, but not as close as he and Audrey. He didn't tell Tish everything, but that's just the way their relationship was. Tish was more low key, shy, and might be uncomfortable, so he picked and chose what he wanted to say. He did tell her about Louis, and that they were in love though. That was too important to leave out. She was genuinely happy for him, albeit quite surprised.

Last was his mum, and without letting himself overthink it, he punched in her number.

Anne was overcome. So much so that he heard her sniffling. So glad to hear from her beloved son.

"I knew you were alright, baby. Those lads that called me, that you work with, were so nice, giving me updates and saying you were fine, but I still couldn't completely rest easy until I knew you were back at the ranch, and safe."

"I couldn't have been safer the entire time, mum. Louis was a great host, and we were in such a charming cabin, a whole new world from either San Diego or the ranch. It was so green, our horses were loose most of the time, and the wild mustangs were incredible!"

Anne made a small sound of pleasure. "Oh honey, it sounds like paradise!"

"It really was. I enjoyed every minute of it." Okay, so that was a white lie, but he didn't want to worry her, or make her think his relationship with Louis was dodgy in any way. And he was quite aware that it was he, himself, who usually caused the problems.

"Is it a little cabin? Does it have a bedroom?" Harry knew Anne was only curious, and was trying to form a mental image, but he was _not_ going to lie to her about their sleeping arrangements or his feelings for Louis, if those topics came up.

"Just one big room," he said tentatively.

"Oh," he could almost hear her thoughts. "And Louis is a good person?"

"No doubt about it. He's the best."

"Young man, I hear that tone to your voice," she scolded. "You aren't telling me everythin.'"

Harry sighed, bracing himself for the confession, and wondering how he was going to word it. He decided to just let the words come out however they chose.

"Louis has been a phenomenal boss and great friend. But . . . while we were at the mountains, something happened that changed me, mum."

Anne was silent, and he instinctively knew she was waiting on him, fighting with herself to keep from asking questions she was _dying_ to ask. He had never told her, after all, that he was gay. And that made this quite a bit harder than if he _had_ told her. How would she take it? Anne was a very kind, understanding, accepting woman, but what would her attitude be if he told her about himself and Louis? Would she be as accepting?

"Mum, I don't know . . . how to tell you this . . ." Harry himself had stalled out now. As far as he knew, she might be thinking the mountains had changed him, or something along those lines. She might not even be suspecting anything romantic between himself and Louis. And that made him nervous.

"Harry . . . I've known. I've known for a long time." The silence was deafening. She could only be talking about one thing.

"You have?" he croaked out once he'd found his voice again.

"Yes. You weren't like the other boys. You know, the boys in your class at school, or the boys you hung around with when you were young."

"I wasn't?"

"No. I can't tell you exactly what it was . . . I guess it was more of a _feeling_ than anything else. But you know I love you to death no matter what."

"Thanks mum."

"Now . . . do you want to tell me about it?"

Harry shifted on the bed, sitting up straighter, because his little speech would require confidence. And even though she couldn't see him, he needed a shot of self-assurance to tell her this, and sitting up straight and making himself put on a bold facade was what he needed to be composed enough to help her understand.

"We were just friends, and he was my boss, for a long time. But, at some point, although we didn't want to acknowledge it at first, we realized . . . we were meant for each other." He finished the last few words in a rush, letting the last bit of air whoosh from his lungs in a kind of relief.

He didn't have to wait long.

"Oh, Harry! I'm so very happy for you, and you are too, yeah?"

Harry breathed another sigh of relief. He'd known deep down that she'd accept it, but still . . . he hadn't been absolutely, one hundred percent certain.

"You bet I am, mum."

"You're in love with him, aren't you, son?" she ventured.

Harry smiled. "Yeah, mum, Yeah, I am."

Anne was busy making happy, satisfied little noises.

"And I assume he feels the same?"

"Yes, mum. He does. And I have to get off the phone now. I've been on entirely too long. But I promise I'll call you again within the next few days."

There was a lot of "I love yous" and his mum finally, grudgingly let him go, but with a soft laugh.

"I'm glad you've found your soul mate," she said as they hung up.

 _Soul mate._ So cliché, yet it felt so good to hear his mum say it.

Nearly two hours had passed when Harry turned his phone off and went to meet Louis in the other room, his cheeks showing high color.

"You told 'em didn't you?" asked Louis as he hugged Harry to him. Harry's eyes were dilated, and that told Louis he'd been emotional and stressed to a point.

"Yes, I did. Even me mum," Harry said proudly.

Louis beamed with delight. "Wow, even your mum!"

Harry had to be front-page about this to tell his mum on his first phone call to her since they'd returned. Louis was about as happy as he'd ever been as he took Harry's hand, called him "baby," and led him into the bedroom.


	70. Chapter 70

_Slow down Tomlinson._

He needed to get his crucial message across to Harry; that Harry was more important to him than anything or anyone else, or what they might think. He had to be absolutely convinced that Harry knew of his feelings right down to his soul before even hinting about sex.

They had been starving for each other. But there had to be priorities. And the number one priority here was love. Showing it.

Louis needed to prove to Harry that he need never run again. No more misunderstandings. No more lack of communication.

Harry needed to show Louis he'd never let him down again. Wouldn't disappear on him, and wouldn't breach his trust.

"I missed you," Louis said as soon as he had gently settled Harry on the bed. "Since you entered me life, I can't see any kind of life without you."

Harry gasped at the baldness, the intensity of Louis' words.

Harry opened his mouth to begin to try to explain his actions again, but Louis put a stop to it.

"And don't talk. I've heard all I need to hear, and more importantly, I understand," Louis reprimanded him gently. He began to kiss Harry as if time didn't exist. Long, slow and with a purposely hushed, softened sensuality. His lips barely touched Harry's at first. His aim was for Harry to yearn for it, reach for it. His lips moved over Harry's without demanding anything; moist, and oozing affection. Their lips molded together. Harry hummed, and it sounded like a plea, an appeal to Louis. As the kiss grew more passionate, by tiny, excruciating increments, Louis kept himself firmly governed with enormous effort.

They snuggled and cuddled then- things mustn't move too fast, As they lay there hugging, Harry thought he understood. He was pretty sure he had a vague grasp on it. There were many layers of their friendship, and even more layers of their love. Louis wanted to be sure they got through all of them. That they were on the same page. The same level of understanding. He wanted Harry to know that he'd give every piece of himself to the relationship, do whatever it took to make their fantasies about the future become solid reality. Louis wasn't one to do something this important half-assed.

The kissing and cuddling went on for a long time. Neither one pushed it. There was no urgency, their expressions of love a mutual softness, and they basked in it; no need to hasten it. To do so would be to cheapen it. Tonight was to be a turning point in their lives.

Louis had to convince Harry once and for all that his place was with him. It had to be good—better than good. It had to be earth-moving. So, with great care, he used all the patience he possessed. Presently, Harry grew restless, wiggling under him, almost-whining.

"I love the noises you make," crooned Louis, his voice a throaty whisper. "Fuckin' love 'em."

They couldn't seem to get close enough to each other, and the clothes somehow came off, although neither one really knew how. Despite Louis' efforts, they were becoming ravenous. Wanting . . . needing.

They panted, licking, sucking at each other's necks, nibbling on lips, nuzzling, murmuring incoherent words of love. Needing repeats of promises that had already been made, needing incessant reassurance. Desperate for continuous solid vows of love, each of them declaring and repeating it several times in between kisses. It was a living, breathing thing.

The kisses deepened more fully, Louis sucking at Harry's tongue, the electricity zinging down Harry's body, nearly intolerable in its potency, and it almost felt like Louis was sucking his dick.

Harry's body was pressed so tightly to Louis' that Louis couldn't help himself. He rolled his hips slowly, aiming to drive Harry wild.

Harry was already there. Half out of his mind with desire. He was untamed, and his efforts to put his brand on Louis were so transparent that Louis felt like he could see into his every thought and dream. No one would be predominant—there would be equality in decisions and compromises in their life together. In the bedroom . . . well, they could take turns at being in charge, although they both rather preferred Louis' preeminence. It was just an unspoken, understood fact.

 _Harry claiming him . . . what a trip that would be. But he knew Harry could be quite commanding in particular situations. Louis' cock flexed at the thought._

"Is this forever?" Louis urged, clamping onto Harry's gaze and not letting go. Not being able to hear the words enough.

"Yes . . . yes. And I mean it with me whole heart." Harry's eyes welled up, and Louis saw it. Saw the naked honesty and emotion in his lover's eyes.

"It better be," quipped Louis, his own eyes beginning to burn with tears that were soon dripping down onto Harry's neck and chest unchecked, shamelessly, and now also streaming from Harry's eyes.

It was almost too much. Louis had tried to make a light-hearted comment, but the pensive, sober aura took precedence, and humbled the both of them.

Lacking a warning, the atmosphere abruptly switched yet again. Louis had changed it deliberately, as It was the only way he could continue this without captivating Harry, and sealing the deal without a proper seduction. It had to be right-it had to be perfect.

 _Slow burn_

Louis tried to not yet give free rein to his greedy desires, focusing instead on being intentionally playful. He nuzzled and licked Harry, rooting at him with his nose, making Harry giggle. Louis was literally cut into thirds. A third serious, a third joking around, and a third simmering fervor.

Harry flipped Louis over onto his back so that he was on top, jolting Louis into a total lack of resistance. He'd been caught off-guard, but oh, how he loved it. He granted Harry full control of his body. Harry began to nibble, nuzzle, and do what Louis had just been doing to him.

Louis' breath hitched when Harry's full, tantalizing lips approached his nipples. Teasing, cajoling, enticing Louis was Harry's intent. He wanted him writhing underneath him, as Louis was so accomplished at doing to him.

He pressed the flat of his tongue on Louis' nipple for a brief moment, ending the stimulation almost before it began, and pulling a heartrending groan from Louis. But Harry soon took pity on him, and did the same to the opposite nipple. Both nipples were now wet, and Louis relished the feeling.

Louis squirmed, wanting more, yet not sure if he could withstand it much longer. This kind of half- passive stimulation from Harry was almost worse than the straightforward stuff.

Harry was teasing him, and enjoying the hell out of it.

Next thing he knew, Harry was flicking his tongue on the erect nub, then swirling his tongue around and around, going back and forth between both nipples, flicking and swirling until Louis actually whined.

So satisfying to hear.

So Harry decided to indulge himself further. Giving Louis pleasure was just as good as getting it himself. He wasn't sure how that could be, but he felt the tingly, quivery sensations from Louis flow right into his own body, almost making his toes curl. And he felt powerful. He had control over this handsome, rough, rugged, no-nonsense cowboy, reducing him to a helpless whimpering sponge for his touch. Power that no one else had over Louis. _He,_ Harry styles had this power!

It was strong, and it was heady, intoxicating, and most of all, so arousing that he could hardly contain himself. He began sucking Louis' nipples, knowing they were sensitive like his own, and knowing the kind of drugging sensation it elicited.

It prompted sighs and moans the likes of what Harry had only heard come from Louis' mouth a few times before. Louis had made a lot of noise in the past during sex, but tonight there was an extra bit of urgency. Harry felt tipsy just from watching and feeling Louis' pleasure, and he hadn't had a sip to drink.

 _And . . . they weren't even having sex yet_! That was the most exciting part.

Harry's aggressively sucking lips let go of a rock hard nipple with a loud pop, and then he raised Louis' arm, pinning it over his head. Then his own head descended, his lustrous wavy hair brushing against Louis' side like a sensual feather, and Louis rebelled.

"It's gonna tickle!"

"Maybe at first, but not for long," Harry sounded so sure of himself.

Harry's face buried under his arm, nuzzling, caused Louis to begin to giggle, trying to escape. Harry held onto him, and Louis was so weak from the tickling sensation that he could barely fight, let alone get away from Harry.

Harry began to lick, bringing a gasp from Louis. Harry was full of surprises, but this one really impressed Louis with its originality. Licking his armpit in long strokes, stopping to kiss and nibble, at first was almost intolerable for Louis. He'd been ticklish all his life. Especially _there._

But then, something happened. Louis got a strange rush, and he felt his ticklishness suddenly starting to vanish. Until it was completely gone, replaced with a great flush of heat. The rush, he discovered a moment later, was actually arousal. Harry was turning him on!

Sex play. Harry was obviously an experimenter, and he was discovering what aroused Louis. His mouth did wicked things. His nose nestled into the hair, and Louis moaned. Then he did a raspberry, which had a lusty Louis giggling in spite of himself. Back to Louis' nipples for more delicious torture.

Then Harry rolled off Louis, onto his back, panting, his cock jerking, and turning his head to look right into Louis' eyes. This was perhaps the most intoxicating part of it—the way Harry held the eye contact. He wanted Louis to know how much he wanted this forever to bind them—this forever that was within their grasp.

"So you turn me on just to pull away?" Louis tried to sound stern, but he gave himself away because his voice was laced with amusement. He was liking the way Harry was pulling out all the stops. Being unbearably sexy, but not quite available . . . yet.

Pre-come was dripping from Louis' cock. Harry's teasing, Harry's dimpled smile, that finger-licking good body, that proud, enormous cock. And that sultry look on Harry's face . . . heavy lidded eyes, his full lips turned up, daring Louis to take the next step.

No problem. Louis was ready for his turn. There was a devilish twinkle in his eyes. So ready he could almost taste Harry, smell his skin up close, feel their legs tangled together, the way Harry used to do in bed at night as they slept.

 _He'd done it for the first time in the line shack._

Louis utilized his lithe, yet powerful and compact body, and pounced on Harry like a sleek cat. Those muscles didn't slow him down at all. They only enhanced every move. All of his moves were measured precisely, unlike Harry, who was more likely to leap and miss Louis altogether, landing on the floor with a thump beside the bed. He envied Louis' grace.

"You're brilliant, with those moves," murmured Harry from underneath Louis, as they practiced their intense stare. Harry wanted to scream at him to stop, because the power in that stare was almost enough to cause him to come in a rumbling climax, sure to shatter him.

Louis began to nibble up and down Harry's sides. The same thing occurred that Louis had been victim to a few minutes before. He was ticklish, but it lasted all of about thirty seconds, until he was wiggling with delight, realizing there must be countless erogenous zones all over their bodies that they had yet to discover.

"You taste so fuckin' good. I just want to eat you up," mumbled Louis as he continued to nibble.

"Don't talk dirty to me," begged Harry. "You'll get me even more hot and bothered."

"Oh, I'll talk dirty to ya . . . but I have to tease you some more," confided Louis, raising his eyebrows, and causing Harry's face to contort. He knew he was in for it. It would be torment, but also ecstasy. It was the waiting for the ecstasy that was the hard part.

"I'm in," decided Harry with an affirmative nod of his head. "I can hack it."

"We'll see . . . " Louis' remark put Harry a little on edge. What was he going to do? Would he be able to take it? Would Louis be unceasing in his sexual torture?

He didn't have time to ponder it much more, because Louis was licking his chest and upper belly. Short, quick little licks. And while Louis did this, Harry happened to look down, and he could see Louis stroking his own cock. Slowly, deliberately.

Louis, seeing Harry watch, ceased with the licking and got up off the bed, standing beside it, eyelids extremely heavy, and then starting stroking anew. No bashfulness of any kind in his gaze. Just raw lust. Harry's eyes went wide. He saw the moisture at the tip, saw how Louis' balls were drawn up in their sac, Louis having that sleepy bedroom look, like he'd been yearning for sex for a long time.

Watching Louis' muscled biceps as he jerked himself, his muscled, shapely thighs, the way his hand gripped his sex, his tight, rippled abs, the way Louis' tongue played over his lips as he gazed down at Harry on the bed had Harry trying to breathe and feeling like he would choke at any moment, and not wanting to do anything that would inhibit Louis, stop him from performing for his audience of one. A very _eager_ audience of one.

Louis' fingers now danced up and down his own member, his eyes never leaving Harry's lustful ones. He looked like such a bad boy, and Harry felt like he needed to be restrained because he didn't trust himself not to take serious advantage of this opportunity that taunted him, just out of his reach.

He could rise from the bed, but something told him Louis would recoil, staying just far away to tease him unsparingly. So he stayed where he was, and enjoyed the show.

Louis was now tickling the insides of his own thighs, up high, close to his groin, then cupping his balls and arching his back just a little bit—just enough to keep Harry's eyes glued on him. Louis turned just a bit to the side to toss an item of clothing off the bed, and Harry got an eyeful . . . _that ass!_

 _As if Harry wasn't already completely hooked._

Louis rapidly sat down on the bed, afraid he was going to come before they could even get started. He spread Harry's legs. Then, dipping between them, he began licking the insides of his thighs. Harry couldn't stop himself from jerking. In fact, his whole body quaked and twitched, quivered. His hips involuntarily raised off the bed a few inches.

Louis pushed Harry's pelvis back down to the mattress, then licked behind each of Harry's knees. Harry made a squeaking sound, realizing Louis could even excite him this way. Harry was becoming more sensitized by the moment. Not knowing what Louis would do next was almost worse than enduring the intriguing, almost out of control arousal.

Harry's voice was hoarse, raw as he begged Louis without shame. For love, for sex, for intimacy.

"Lou, you're me Sunshine. Please stop teasin' me and hold me. Even if you do nothin' else, just hold me."

Louis heard the warm nectar of passion in Harry's voice . . . the need.

Louis instantly obliged and fell down on top of Harry, hugging him tight. Their legs automatically twined together.

"I love you so much, Lou," Harry's voice was little more than a sob.

"And you know how much I love you, Haz. I'd go to the ends of the earth for you. Or, at least the ends of Texas . . . . and California," he added, throwing in a shit-eating grin.

Harry smiled. "That's impressive," he said. "That's quite a distance."

"Just so you know, I was prepared to go to San Diego to find you," Louis pulled back a bit to look Harry in the eyes to let him see that he was telling the outright, unfettered truth.

Harry's delight was impossible to hide, and he didn't even try. "You were?"

"Yes. If I didn't find you soon, that's where I would've been headed."

Louis leaned down and licked the tip of Harry's cock. Harry gasped.

"You teased me that way not that long ago, remember?"

Then Louis did it again. Just one swipe of his tongue, savoring the pungent flavor of Harry's pre-come. But not continuing. Harry felt like he was unraveling.

"Louis, please!" His hips rose, and Louis swiped his tongue yet again, causing Harry's dick to jump and slap softly against his belly.

"Kissy," said Harry, raising up on his elbows. Louis willingly obliged. It was sweet, long and all softness.

"What do you want, Haz?" Louis taunted. While Harry pondered that, Louis prodded him some more.

"Come on, Haz. Tell me what you want. I'm all yours."

Louis was reaching for what lay latent in Harry. The boldness. He knew it was there, and he was trying to encourage Harry to let loose with it.

"I want you to fuck me." There was the courageous side of Harry that had been snuffed out temporarily when he had run away from Louis. It was back, and that told Louis a whole hell of a lot.

"You won't ever leave me again," Louis gritted out, holding Harry tighter than he ever had before. Harry felt and heard the conviction in Louis' grip and his voice. The possession, although his voice trembled and faltered just a little bit.

"No, I won't, Lou. You've got me for life," and Harry meant every word more than he'd ever meant anything before.

"Let me show you the magnitude of me love." Louis wormed himself down to Harry's crotch, eagerly seeking that delectable part of Harry that hounded him with a fierce desire in both his waking and sleeping hours.

He treasured it, cherished it, paid tribute to it with his loving touch. And Harry was once again purring like a cat, luxuriating in it.

Stroking it with a feather-light touch, Louis inserted just the tip into his mouth, sucking so lightly that Harry could scarcely feel it. Just when Harry was ready to yelp in his frustration, Louis suddenly began to suck fiercely and demandingly.

"Ohhhhh . . . " Harry went to pieces, his hips bouncing up and down. Louis' finger was introduced after a short while of this exquisite stimulation. But he made sure Harry wasn't going to come too quickly. He kept him right there, a mere hair's breath away from erupting. He stopped all stimulation the moment he felt Harry's body start to go stiff.

Harry, thoroughly exasperated and desperate to come, mumbled and sniveled about the torture.

Louis slid his finger in further, and Harry felt he was hanging by a thin thread. It wouldn't take much more . . . Louis, so tuned into him, knew to cool it. He prepared his cock, spread Harry's legs with his own hands and eased them up nearly to Harry's ears.

It was a relatively simple thing, but it turned Harry on so much when Louis spread him open. It was such a loving, intimate thing to do. And he felt like he truly belonged, mind and body, to Louis.

Louis rubbed his cock against Harry's opening lightly and smoothly, spreading his own copious pre-come, and waiting for Harry to relax. They hadn't done an awful lot of this, and Harry would probably be a little bit clenched and still pretty tight. Harry remembered to relax though, and he bore down a little bit, welcoming Louis inside.

"More fingers?" inquired Louis.

Harry shook his head resolutely.

"No. Just want you, your cock, inside me, as soon as possible."

Louis slid right in, and very little resistance met him. He didn't slam into Harry, as he loved him too much and didn't want to hurt him. However, as soon as he was all the way in, Harry was rocking up to meet him. That was when he knew for sure that Harry was ready.

He sped things up after a while, short strokes, long ones, harder ones and gentler ones. Harry reacted wonderfully to it all, but he seemed to need a little more forcefulness tonight. So Louis did just that.

He moved his hips to a faster tempo, watching Harry's face, and seeing only pleasure as Harry made all manner of pleased noises. Faster he went, until their pelvises were slapping together, Harry coaxing and urging him all the while.

Louis took care to locate Harry's prostate, and made sure he hit it once in a while. That was enough to bring Harry to the brink of climax again very quickly. Louis fucking him very swiftly now, he made sure to hit Harry's prostate at every thrust, and this was too much for Harry. As Louis' hips flew with a frenzy, Harry came, with no stimulation of his own cock, caught between them and leaking. As he came, he weakly grabbed his member and Louis lowered his head as much as he could, bending his body over, and Harry shot directly into Louis' mouth. Most of it found its way inside, and Louis smacked his lips, swallowing eagerly. This novel, extremely sensual experience pushed Louis right over the edge before he could even dream of trying to delay it. He emptied himself into Harry. He gloried in the way Harry squeezed him in a rhythm, making his own orgasm even more intense.

They must have made some noise, trying to muffle it with pillows, spasming with the last remnants of their orgasms that had seemed to rock them for hours when in reality had been mere minutes.

"Let's love and hug some more," suggested Louis. And Harry, pleased as he could possibly be, responded with the last of his energy. They hugged for a long time, and let the love roll over both of them, over and over.

Finally, they lay back, side to side and had a very pleasant conversation about returning to the ranch tomorrow . . . as a couple.


	71. Chapter 71

"What time is it?" asked Harry a little later. He was so used to not having his cell phone that he'd forgotten he could have looked at it, sitting on the end table right beside the bed. Louis smiled, shaking his head with affection, and looked at his own.

"8:30," Louis announced. They'd been at it longer than he'd thought. "Hungry? How about having Chinese delivered? Or do you want sommat else?"

"Chinese is perfect," purred Harry, still somewhat drunk on their lovemaking, his eyes still hooded. He looked so sexy, thought Louis. That kind of thing should be against the law. Harry had the ability to drive him stark raving mad. Louis perpetually felt like he needed another orgasm just from laying eyes on Harry. He took mental pictures of him all the time.

They ended up ordering pizza, because neither of them could resist. Nothing, not even Chinese food, hit the spot quite like pizza did.

When a knock sounded on the door half an hour later, Louis slipped on his jeans and, with just enough swagger in his walk, he crossed the room. Harry's eyes never left him. His cock noticed too, and he wondered if Louis knew what he was doing, was aware of how desirable he looked, swaggering toward the door, shirtless and barefoot. Harry was plenty ready for more action after they ate dinner.

 _Swag master of Doncaster_

"Brilliant, proper brilliant," approved Louis as he lifted the lid of the pizza box and gave it a cursory inspection. He paid, and then handed a more than generous tip to the delivery boy, whose eyes lit up. "Thanks!" he said, bouncing a bit in place, looking like he was ready to do a happy dance.

Louis smiled, closed the door, and realized that the boy had reminded him a little of Niall. Always merry and lighthearted. Niall . . . the Irish lad always warmed his heart.

The pizza was unusually good, or maybe it was just that they were famished after sex. Every time Louis' tongue stuck out to lick sauce off his lips, Harry couldn't tear his eyes away. They were so good together, and _everything_ seemed to bring his mind back to it.

"Whatcha lookin' at?" Louis had caught him staring.

"Nothin.' Just . . . you."

"Think I don't see the lust in your eyes? Well, you should see yourself eatin' a banana!" exclaimed Louis. "It's almost obscene."

"I've never done anythin' . . _. suggestive_ with a banana."

"You don't have to. Just seein' your lips close over it as it disappears into your mouth . . . " Louis looked a little dazed, like he'd been swallowed up by an erotic daydream. "And I never wanna have to see you eat an ice cream cone again," he added. "The way your tongue swirls around it, and when you suck the last bit out before eating the cone . . . that is just lascivious."

"Stop talkin' about it and finish eatin.' I'm gonna suck your cock in a few minutes." Harry had said it so casually. Yep, Louis' influence was clearly evident, and getting more so by the day.

Louis had been brought up short by this admission of Harry's, and giggling and being aroused at the same time was something he hadn't experienced before. He loved it. Loved everything about being with Harry and bantering like this.

Less than an hour later, after a shower together, Louis was groaning and getting close to thrashing about on the bed as Harry did just what he'd pledged he'd do after they were done eating. Harry had gotten so damn good at it that Louis, at one point, couldn't move. He felt paralyzed, or like he was in a straight jacket. The sensations were so overpowering that he hardly breathed with the intensity of Harry's lips and tongue.

Harry shivered hard, knowing he was the cause of Louis' helpless state. The hardened rancher that, only a few months ago, took life too seriously, took no shit from anyone, and rarely smiled. This same man was now fully enjoying being gay, and pleasuring as well as being pleasured by his boyfriend, was no longer afraid to be silly, to relax, to laugh, and most of all, to _love._

They watched TV until about eleven, when Harry's eyes began to close on their own. He'd had a pretty rough time of it lately, and so Louis tucked him under the covers and then climbed in himself. Even in his sleep, Harry threw his leg over Louis' hips, and laced their fingers together. Louis didn't see how it was possible to be this happy. He threw a candy bar on Harry's pillow so he'd find it in the morning.

They slept until nearly eight the next morning, and didn't feel the least bit guilty about it, even though they knew the other ranch hands would have been out working hours ago. After a shower and a giggly sharing of the toothbrush, Harry informed Louis he was going to suck his cock again. Louis was once again jolted at Harry's bold behavior.

"You're so damn deceiving," Louis said. "You look so sweet and beautiful and shy, but when I get you in the bedroom . . . watch out!"

It was true. Harry loved sex, and he wasn't going to make a secret of it. He had Louis all to himself, and Louis turned him on night and day, by just breathing.

The kiss started out sweet, and went to hungry in moments. They were both moaning and rolling around on the bed, not having bothered to get dressed after their shower.

"What do you think the guys will think?" asked Harry when their lips parted for a moment.

"What guys?" Louis' voice was laced with irritation. Here Harry had him all turned on, and then he starts talking about things other than sex.

"Leo and Nick."

"Leo already knows. Remember how we were obvious in front of him?"

"Yeah, but will Leo and Nick accept us like Johnny and Niall do?"

"I don't know, but they don't really have a choice. If it bothers 'em, they can move on, but I have a distinct feeling they'll stick around. Hell, they'll get used to it."

That must have been enough to pacify Harry, because he latched onto Louis' length, his mouth working busily. He sucked the pre-come from the tip, then took as much of Louis into his mouth as he could.

Louis gasped loudly. "God, but you're a shock a minute!" he croaked out. Louis was loving how Harry didn't hold anything back. And nothing turned Harry on faster than making Louis lose control.

His tongue flicking and entering the slit, then sucking hard, Harry had Louis in a state of almost painful arousal.

"Stop Harry. It's too much! Are you gonna fuck me, or am I gonna fuck you?" Louis fought to get the words past his lips because the lust was rendering him brainless. He couldn't form a coherent thought anymore. He only knew that he wanted Harry, whether it was Harry inside him, or himself inside Harry.

Harry got up on his knees and wiggled his hips a bit, his mouth still connected to Louis' cock. That sight nearly made Louis erupt right then.

"Stop!" Louis got Harry's mouth off him just in time. Then he rushed around behind Harry, positioning him in the middle of the bed so he'd have plenty of room to make love to him.

They had never needed lubricant yet, as they both oozed enough pre-come to make entry easy. Louis spread Harry's cheeks with his hands, then guided his cock against Harry's hole. Harry responded with a squeak of pleasure and backed up to Louis prematurely.

"Wait a minute, Haz! Let me make sure it's in the right place!"

"Oh, it is, trust me," Harry cooed. It was. All Louis had to do was press in slowly. He had to stop a couple of times because Harry was still overly tight. Time would help with that. Louis had to bite his lip to keep from ramming into Harry. He wanted to thrust so damn bad. But the fear of hurting Harry was greater than the need. And that was saying a lot.

Little by little, he reached his goal, and then Harry became a wild man right before his eyes.

"Fuck me hard, Lou."

"Are you sure?" Louis' voice was tight as he tried to hold back. He squeezed the base of his cock to forestall his imminent orgasm. It worked—at least for the moment.

He slid in and out several times, then, when Harry whimpered again that he wanted it harder, Louis was convinced Harry was as ready as he was going to get. He thrust a little harder, gauging Harry's response. Harry didn't tighten up as if he was in pain. Instead, he rocked his body back against Louis' cock.

Before long, Louis was thrusting wildly, all the way in and all the way out, and when Harry expressed his pleasure, he added even more speed. His hips were flying. It got rough. The headboard began to beat against the wall as Louis bucked, but both of them were way past caring. Louis, wanting Harry to get the full experience before he combusted. stopped for a few seconds to squeeze the base of his own cock again, then resumed their primal mating. They were like animals. Louis was actually growling.

"Ah . . . Ah . . . Ah . . ." Harry was obviously loving it so much that his ass never stopped pushing back against Louis, and his rock hard cock also bobbing with every thrust.

Suddenly Louis slowed down and then pulled out altogether and motioned for Harry to lie on his back. Harry wordlessly obeyed, trembling with pleasure when Louis slid back inside again.

Harry expected more of the same thing—rough and hard. Instead, Louis went completely still. He waited until Harry looked up at him before he began to move. It was a tender roll of the hips this time, along with soft kisses along Harry's jaw and down his neck. Harry stared into his eyes, wondering if he should ask him to move faster, but the words didn't form.

Harry's radiant smile took Louis' breath away. And the look Louis gave Harry of absolute adoration humbled Harry. This was love. They kissed sweetly, and Harry relished this brief interlude to let Louis' love glow shine down on him.

Louis cupped Harry's butt cheeks in his hands, lifting him up to him, yet maintaining the gentle, slow rhythm.

Then Louis located Harry's prostate, and began to slide against it with every roll of his hips. Only three more thrusts, and Harry exploded in a spectacular climax that caused him to writhe on the bed. Louis followed his movements, somehow keeping his cock inside. Harry squirted all over his own chest and the bed. It was so erotically stimulating to see Harry like this that Louis could hold off no longer. He fell apart.

Harry could feel Louis pumping his seed deep within his body. Louis yelped as his orgasm crashed over him, and collapsed on top of Harry moments or maybe minutes later. He'd lost track of time. His climax had seemed to him to last a lifetime.

Faces within inches of each other, they vowed their love to each other.

After washing up in the bathroom, both their cocks were half hard, and they sixty-nined for quite some time, trying to satiate themselves and each other. But the fact was, they were _always_ hungry for each other. The feeling of satisfaction didn't last long, no matter how many orgasms they managed. And it ended up being at least four by ten o'clock. Harry had nursed another one out of Louis when the rancher was unprepared. He'd simply opened his mouth and vacuumed on Louis' member and wouldn't take no for an answer. It was a smaller climax than the others, but it thrilled both of them just the same.

"I think I milked you dry . . . for now," teased Harry.

"Yeah, those last two words tell the story; but fuck, was it ever good! And I hate like hell to say this, but we have to head back to the ranch, Haz. We need to fetch the horses at the cabin tomorrow morning."

"I know. It's gonna feel weird at first," Harry admitted. He was chewing lazily at the candy bar he'd found on his pillow this morning.

"Want to stop for sommat to eat, or wait 'til we get to the ranch?" inquired Louis. "Cookie will have saved us some breakfast."

"If you can wait, I can too. And I have some crackers and jerky left over if you need to munch on sommat."

"Nah, I'll be fine."

Harry followed Louis back to the ranch, and the hour's drive seemed much longer. Harry just wanted it over with. It dawned on him when they were halfway there that he was anxious and unsettled about Leo and Nick. He knew that Niall and Johnny knew they were in love, but what about Leo and Nick? Would they think it was just sex, and that Harry was going to get special treatment by staying in the house with Louis? He didn't want them to think he was taking advantage of Louis. Louis, meanwhile, wasn't wanting them thinking that Harry was going to be his boy toy.

As they pulled up to the ranch, both their hearts were hammering in their chests. They were both unsure about the kind of reception they'd receive. Louis wouldn't ever admit this to Harry though, because he knew Harry was nervous enough already without knowing how jumpy he was too.

One of the ranch trucks with a trailer hitched to it was parked where it usually was when it was just back from delivering livestock, or bringing livestock in, and Harry wondered what was going on. Maybe some mares had been sold, or a stud delivered.

He looked over at Saber's corral automatically, to see how his horse was doing, and couldn't quite believe his eyes. There, standing beside Saber, and watching the trucks pull in, was Mystic Thunder! Looking a few corrals over, Joaquin was also present.

As he and Louis got out of the trucks, they were both stunned, not speaking at first.

Seeing them staring at the horses, Niall spoke up.

"Johnny and me went and got 'em a little while ago, so you guys wouldn't have to. I hope it's alright with you. We brought your clothes and stuff back too."

"Thanks Niall, Johnny. Of course it's alright." Louis shook their hands. "That was real nice of you."

Nick and Leo were standing up against the corral fence, gawking at Mystic Thunder. The pride Harry felt was almost overwhelming. This was every bit as good as if he, Louis and Niall had brought the mustang home!

Leo and Nick were fascinated by the young stud's beauty, and Harry saw no jealousy or envy on their faces as they turned around to greet himself and Louis.

"That is one _sharp_ mustang," exclaimed Nick. "Niall says he's broke already too. What a nice animal . . . he's got Arab blood, doesn't he?"

Harry and Louis both nodded proudly. "Sure looks like it, yeah?" you could hear the pride in Harry's voice.

Leo spoke up then, hesitant. "I reckon that stallion is gonna be a fine stud for some quality, approved mares."

"No," said Harry quickly. "He's gonna be gelded. He's gonna be me ridin' horse. Him and Saber."

Leo smiled, then gave Harry an awkward half-hug, patting his back. Harry wondered if Leo knew the extent of the relationship between himself and Louis, and this was his way of telling him he had his approval. "You sure got good taste in horses," Leo offered. "That's one regal beast."

"Thanks."

Niall, who was standing nearby, didn't say much. The look in his eyes told Harry he wasn't certain about what he should or shouldn't say. That's when Harry knew that Leo and Nick had probably not been told that the rancher and Harry were officially a couple.

Louis fixed that lickety-split though, when he strode right up to Harry and put his arm around Harry's opposite shoulder, squeezing him tightly against his side, and not letting go. He wasted no time in setting things straight.

"In case you haven't heard, uh, Harry and I are . . . together," he said, directing his words to Leo and Nick, his voice faltering only slightly. Harry was so proud of him that he swore he felt his heart flip in his chest. He doubted he would have been able to give out that kind of news as fluently and confidently.

"Harry'll be livin' in the house. Otherwise, everythin' will be the same. Nothin's gonna change."

Leo and Nick looked blankly at each other. Apparently Johnny and Niall had not breathed a word of what had been going on at the cabin. It must have killed Niall, since he was so sociable, gregarious and frankly, he loved gossip. Leo had had an inkling, of course, but he evidently hadn't been sure. He'd thought that maybe Louis had put his arm around Harry that day because he didn't want too many people staying at the cabin. Now, however, he knew for certain.

Shadow Bear ran up then, whining, with her tail whipping like a lasso gone wild. Harry kneeled down to take her head between his hands. He realized he hadn't seen her the day he'd gotten back, and then left in his Rover.

"So glad to see you again, girl," he crooned. "I missed you."

"So did I, pretty girl," added Louis, rubbing her head.

"Are those some new young chickens?" asked Harry, pointing at some nearly half-grown chickens in an awkward stage of growth.

"No, Haz! Those are the same chicks you befriended!" said Louis with a laugh. "They're the same ones that were in your lap!"

"You're kiddin!" Harry could scarcely believe how much they'd grown. They looked completely different.

"Chickens grow fast. You can't blink your eyes, or they'll be grown already!" Niall crowed.

Louis came up behind Harry and put his arms around his chest. He was not at all skimpy with the affection. And although Harry was a little shy about it, he was also glad. Louis was claiming him as his own, and most definitely wasn't ashamed of him.

That night in the bunkhouse, the ranch hands were asking Harry all about his stay in the Apache Mountains. Harry told them about how he'd almost fallen off the drop-off to the valley in the complete darkness of night in the mountains.

"Louis, being the Superman he is, found me in the dark and rescued me." All faces were rapt with attention as he told the tale.

"Why did you ride back to the ranch by yourself?" asked Leo. Harry had known that question was bound to come up sooner or later, and he had tried to prepare himself.

"A bit of a tiff between us. But hey, happens to everyone in a . . . relationship," he still got a little embarrassed when referring to what was between himself and Louis. He'd grow used to it though, in time. He told them about how he'd walked all night because he'd been afraid to sleep in the blackness.

All he'd gotten was approval and sincere smiles from everyone since they'd returned. They all liked Louis, of course, and he supposed they figured that if Louis wanted him as his partner in life, they were all for Louis' happiness. Even Nora and Cookie didn't show any disapproval. Harry noticed they were closer than ever. There was talk, Niall said, that Nora and Cookie were now using the same bedroom.

Louis walked in the bunkhouse door about then, and Harry felt himself turn to mush. All he had to do was see Louis, or hear his voice, and he was done for. Louis had heard the last remark about Nora and Cookie. He just shrugged his shoulders. "It's about time they admitted what was obvious and got together," he said. "It's been right long enough, yeah?"

He sidled up to Harry, purposely getting into his space, and Harry was loving it, although his cheeks felt unusually warm. He was aware of the other guys' eyes on them.

When they went to bed that night, Louis was worn out. "Gotta admit, that was tryin' on me nerves," he admitted to Harry.

"You too, huh? You handled it so well, I would never have known you weren't completely at ease about it."

"Well, inside, I was nervous. None of them knew I was gay, after all. So I'm sure they're still reelin' with the news. Let's go to bed. I want to be with you . . . alone."

That was the biggest compliment Harry had had all day. In bed they cuddled, chatted, and were so grateful that things had gone as smoothly as they had. It looked like they'd been accepted. It was better than either one of them could have hoped for.

Niall had been sure to bring Harry's bananas back from the cabin. They were bordering on being too ripe. He set them in the middle of the table in the bunkhouse before breakfast, defying anybody to touch them. Those were _Harry's_.

But there was trouble right off the bat.

Louis was being snarky outside to the guy who was trying to deliver a truckload of supplies, and had brought the wrong order. It was meant for a neighboring ranch. It had been a mistake, of course, and Louis knew it, but he was standing there, hands on hips, being a bad ass, as he badgered the guy. Lapsing back into past behavior, because, apparently, old habits were hard to break. All the hands were watching as Louis used his barbed, razor sharp tongue to chastise the guy. Worse soon came to worst.

"It's your fookin' job, you fookin' losah!" he yelled. "Why can't you get it right?"

As Harry shouldered his way to the front of the small crowd of Rocking Horse Ranch hands, Niall appealed to him. "He's really blastin' him, Harry."

Harry smiled mildly. "It's his nature," he assured Niall, even though Niall had known Louis a lot longer than Harry had. But Harry, nonetheless, was confident he could take care of the situation.

Harry approached Louis, getting into his personal space again. He knew it always weakened the rancher. It got Louis' attention alright. He stopped harassing the guy long enough for Harry to nudge him gently but persistently away from the delivery guy and small audience.

"Lou, me Boo Bear," he cooed to Louis as soon as he could get him far enough off to the side where they wouldn't be heard. "Go easy on him. Please? Everybody makes mistakes. Be kind." Harry used every bit of his ample supply of charm to try to smooth him over, cool his jets.

Louis' angry, red face underwent a nearly instant modification. He softened to Harry on the spot, but his scowl came back as soon as he laid eyes on the delivery guy again. Harry rubbed Louis' back in circles, doing it in such a way that his caress was hidden from the delivery man. This defused Louis quickly. How could you experience Harry's warm affection and be angry at the same time? He was rather blind to other things or people around him when Harry was nearby.

"Harry, you're the best thing that's ever happened to me," he openly acknowledged, just a little embarrassed to be saying it, but making himself say the words. Because it was the truth, and Harry needed to hear it.

"Hey, uh, I'm um . . . sorry I blew up like that," Louis uttered to the delivery guy as he advanced again. "Me and me temper. It's alright. We don't need that stuff right this minute. Go ahead and deliver it to the other ranch, and you can bring our stuff tomorrow."

The guy, who was used to years of Louis' prickly nature, was temporarily stunned.

"Oh, okay. I'll do that. And . . . thanks." He stepped up into his truck and prepared to drive off.

"And again . . . I'm sorry," Louis might have had to force it out, but it was a little easier the second time. He wanted to be sure the message got across. He had a feeling Harry was going to continue to change him in a very good way.

Still puzzled and not knowing what to say, the guy nodded, and as he drove off, Harry wrapped his arms around Louis. "I'm proud of you for that. Let's go eat breakfast."

Breakfast in the bunkhouse had been held off a bit later than normal because the others had been waiting for Louis and Harry to show up. Even in winter time, they normally ate before ten, but an exception had been made today. This was a special occasion.

The food was fantastic as it always was, and Louis praised Cookie for all the good food he'd sent to himself and Harry at the cabin. Nora was bustling around as usual, and the sly smiles she shared with Cookie kind of reminded Harry of himself and Louis. Lovesick.

Louis attempted not to look at Harry as the younger man ate two bananas. He did, however, waggle his eyebrows at Harry when it was safe- _after_ they had been consumed. Harry giggled quietly. He'd tried to catch Louis' eye, and maybe perform some _very_ subtle, questionable hints with the banana that only Louis would notice, but he knew the older man wouldn't be caught dead giggling because he'd have to try to explain it to the others.

Harry tried not to think about how Louis had gotten rough while making love to him, how his colorful language had turned Harry inside out. And then how Louis had changed to being so tender during the same lovemaking session. Their words of love . . . it was hard to put out of his mind.

"Hey, Harry," Johnny spoke up. "Shadow Bear slept on the floor by your bunkbed the whole time you were gone to the mountains. She missed you somethin' terrible. She slept there last night too, after pacin' in front of the house for a while."

Louis and Harry exchanged a look with mutual raised eyebrows. Harry was about to speak up, and Louis knew what the lad wanted. Louis mirrored his thoughts and beat him to it. "She can sleep in the house with us from now on. As long as she stays off the bed!"

Harry's face went beet red, and the others laughed, but Harry was nevertheless overjoyed.

After breakfast, they all went to saddle their horses to begin the day's work. There wouldn't be much to do over the winter, but still enough to keep them busy for a couple of hours a day.

Riding beside Harry, Louis reached over and gently tugged on Harry's hair, then cupped his hands to his mouth and yelled, "Oi Oi!" just for the hell of it.

To add sweetness, Louis then turned to Harry, and said, "Happy days," displaying a heart melting smile that was designed just for Harry.

"No more restless yearnin,'" Harry replied.

"I've found me _home."_

.


End file.
